Temptation

by Nora Roberts

  “Drink. This should ward off the danger of wet feet.”

  As she took the glass, Chase closed the doors at her back. Eden found herself gripping the snifter with both hands. She lifted it slowly, hoping the brandy would clear her head.

  “I’m sorry about all this.” She made certain her tone was as polite and as distant as she could manage. She kept her back to the doors.

  “No trouble.” He wanted to shake her. “Why don’t you sit down?”

  “No, I’m fine.” But when he continued to stand in front of her, she felt it necessary to move. She walked to the window, where the rain was still pouring from the sky. “I don’t suppose this can keep up for long.”

  “No, it can’t.” The amusement he was beginning to feel came out in his voice. Wary, Eden turned back to him. “In fact, I’m amazed it’s gone on this long.” Setting his brandy aside, he went to her. “It’s time we stopped it, Eden. Time you stopped backing away.”

  She gave a quick shake of her head and skirted around him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t.” He was behind her quickly, and there was nowhere to run. He took the snifter from her nerveless fingers before turning her to face him again. Slowly, deliberately, he gathered her hair in his hands, drawing it back until her face was unframed. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, but beneath it, waiting, was the need he’d wanted to see.

  “We stood here once before, and I told you then it was too late.”

  The sun had been streaming through the glass then. Now the rain was lashing against it. As she stood there, Eden felt past and present overlap. “We stood here once before, and you kissed me.”

  His mouth found hers. Like the storm, the kiss was fierce and urgent. He’d expected hesitation and found demand. He’d expected fear and found passion. Drawing her closer, he found hunger and need and shimmering desire. What he had yet to find, what he discovered he needed most, was acceptance.

  Trust me. He wanted to shout it at her, but her hands were in his hair, entangling him and pulling him to her.

  The rain beat against the windowpanes. Thunder walked across the sky. Eden was whirling in her own private storm. She wanted him, wanted to feel him peeling the robe from her shoulders and touching her. She wanted that first delirious sensation of skin meeting skin. She wanted to give her love to him where it could be alive and free, but knew she had to keep it locked inside, secret, lonely.

  “Chase. We can’t go on like this.” She turned her head away. “I can’t go on like this. I have to leave. People are waiting for me.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. Not this time.” He slid a hand up her throat. His patience was at an end.

  She sensed it and backed away. “Candy will be wondering where I am. I’d like to have my clothes now.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” he said again as he lifted his brandy. “Candy won’t be wondering where you are, because I phoned her and told her you weren’t coming back. She said you weren’t to worry, that things were under control. And no”—he sipped his brandy—“you can’t have your clothes. Can I get you something else?”

  “You phoned her?” All the fear, all the anxiety, drained away to make room for temper. Her eyes darkened, losing their fragility. Chase almost smiled. He loved the cool woman, the nervous one, the determined one, but he adored the Viking.

  “Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

  “Where did you possibly get the idea that you had a right to make my decisions for me?” She pushed a hand, covered by the cuff of his robe, against his chest. “You had no business calling Candy, or anyone else. More, you had no business assuming that I’d stay here with you.”

  “I’m not assuming anything. You are staying here. With me.”

  “Guess again.” This time, when she shoved, there was enough power behind it to take him back a step. He knew that if he hadn’t already been mad about her, he would have fallen in love at that moment. “God, but I’m sick to death of dealing with overbearing, dictatorial men who think all they have to do is want something to have it.”

  “You’re not dealing with Eric now, Eden.” His voice was soft, perhaps a shade too soft. “You’re not dealing with other men, but with me. Only me.”

  “Wrong again, because I’m through dealing with you. Give me my clothes.”

  He set the snifter down very carefully. “No.”

  Her mouth would have fallen open if her jaw hadn’t been clenched so tightly. “All right, I’ll walk back in this.” Ready to carry out her threat, she marched to the door and yanked it open. Squat lay across the threshold. As they spotted each other, he rose on his haunches with what Eden was certain was a leer. She took one more step, then, cursing herself for a coward, turned back.

  “Are you going to call off that beast?”

  Chase looked down at Squat, knowing the dog would do nothing more dangerous than slobber on her bare feet. Hooking his thumb in his pocket, he smiled. “He’s had his shots.”

  “Terrific.” With her mind set on one purpose, she strode to the window. “I’ll go out this way then.” Kneeling on the window seat, she began to struggle with the sash. When Chase caught her around the waist, she turned on him.

  “Take your hands off me. I said I was leaving, and I meant it.” She took a swing, surprising them both when it landed hard in his gut. “Here, you want your robe back. I don’t need it. I’ll walk the three miles naked.” To prove her point, she began fighting the knot at the belt.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” As much for his sake as hers, he caught her hands. “If you do, we won’t spend much time talking this through.”

  “I’m not spending any time at all.” She squirmed until they both went down on the cushions of the window seat. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.” She managed to kick until the robe was hitched up to her thighs. “Except that you have the manners of a pig, and I can’t wait until I’m hundreds of miles away from you. I decided the other night, when I was given the choice between a boring fool and a hardheaded clod, that I’d rather join a convent. Now take your hands off me, or I swear, I’ll hurt you. No one, but no one, pushes me around.”

  With that, she put all her energy into one last shove. It sent them both tumbling off the cushions and onto the floor. As he had done once before, Chase rolled with her until he had her pinned beneath him. He stared at her now as he had then, while she fought to get her breath back.

  “Oh God, Eden, I love you.” Laughing at them both, he crushed his lips to hers.

  She didn’t fight the kiss. She didn’t even move, though her fingers stiffened under his. Each breath took such an effort that she thought her heart had slowed down to nothing. When she could speak again, she did so carefully.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d say that again.”

  “I love you.” He watched her eyes close and felt that quick twinge of panic. “Listen to me, Eden. I know you’ve been hurt, but you have to trust me. I’ve watched you take charge of your life this summer. It hasn’t been the easiest thing I’ve ever done to stand back and give you the space you needed to do that.”

  She opened her eyes again. Her heart wasn’t beating at a slow rhythm now, but seemed capable of bursting out of her chest. “Was that what you were doing?”

  “I understood that you needed to prove something to yourself. And I think I knew that until you had, you wouldn’t be ready to share whatever that was with me.”

  “Chase—”

  “Don’t say anything yet.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Eden, I know you’re used to certain things, a certain way of life. If that’s what you need, I’ll find a way to give it to you. But if you give me a chance, I can make you happy here.”

  She swallowed, afraid of misunderstanding. “Chase, are you saying you’d move back to Philadelphia if I asked you to?”

  “I’m saying I’d move anywhere if it was important to you, but I’m not letting you go back alone, Eden. Su
mmers aren’t enough.”

  Her breath came out quietly. “What do you want from me?”

  “Everything.” He pressed his lips to her hand again, but his eyes were no longer calm. “A lifetime, starting now. Love, arguments, children. Marry me, Eden. Give me six months to make you happy here. If I can’t, we’ll go anywhere you like. Just don’t back away.”

  “I’m not backing away.” Her fingers entwined with his. “And I don’t want to be anyplace but here.”

  She saw the change in his eyes even as his fingers tightened on hers. “If I touch you now, there’s no going back.”

  “You’ve already told me it was too late.” She drew him down to her. Passion and promises merged as they strained closer. She felt again that she had the world in the palm of her hand and held it tightly. “Don’t ever let me go. Oh, Chase, I could feel my heart breaking when I thought of leaving here today, leaving you when I loved you so much.”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  Her lips curved at that. Perhaps, in some areas, she could accept a trace of arrogance. “You’d have come after me?”

  “I’d have come after you so fast I’d have been there before you.”

  She felt pleasure grow, and glow. “And begged?”

  His brow lifted at the glint in her eyes. “Let’s just say I’d have left little doubt as to how much I wanted you.”

  “And crawled,” she said, twining her arms around his neck. “I’m almost sorry I missed that. Maybe you could do it now.”

  He took a quick nip at her ear. “Don’t press your luck.”

  Laughing, she held on. “One day this will be gray,” she murmured as she trailed her fingers through his hair. “And I still won’t be able to keep my hands out of it.” She drew his head back to look at him, and this time there was no laughter, only love. “I’ve waited for you all my life.”

  He buried his face in her throat, fighting back the need to make her his, then and there. With Eden it would be perfect, it would be everything dreams were made of. He drew away to trace the line of her cheekbone. “You know, I wanted to murder Eric when I saw him with his hands on you.”

  “I didn’t know how to explain when I saw you there. Then, later . . .” Her brow arched. “Well, you behaved very badly.”

  “You were magnificent. You scared Eric to death.”

  “And you?”

  “You only made me want you more.” He tasted her again, feeling the wild, sweet thrill only she had ever brought to him. “I had plans to kidnap you from camp. Bless Roberta for making it easy.”

  “I hope she’s not upset you’re going to marry me instead. You have a neat dog, and you’re kind of cute.” She pressed her lips to the sensitive area just below his ear.

  “She understood perfectly. In fact, she approves.”

  Eden stopped her lazy exploration of his throat. “Approves? You mean you told her you were going to marry me?”

  “Sure I did.”

  “Before you asked me?”

  Grinning, Chase leaned down to nip at her bottom lip. “I figured Squat and I could convince you.”

  “And if I’d said no?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “There’s still time to change my mind.” He touched his lips to hers again, letting them linger and warm. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “maybe just this once I’ll let you get away with it.”

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  the third book in the Inn BoonsBoro trilogy

  by Nora Roberts

  THE PERFECT HOPE

  Available November 2012 from Berkley Books

  With a few groans and sighs, the old building settled down for the night. Under the star-washed sky its stone walls glowed, rising up over Boonsboro’s Square as they had for more than two centuries. Even the crossroads held quiet now, stretching out in pools of shadows and light. All the windows and storefronts along Main Street seemed to sleep, content to doze away in the balm of the summer night.

  She should do the same, Hope thought. Settle down, stretch out. Sleep.

  That would be the sensible thing to do, and she considered herself a sensible woman. But the long day left her restless and, she reminded herself, Carolee would arrive bright and early to start breakfast.

  The innkeeper could sleep in.

  In any case, it was barely midnight. When she’d lived and worked in Georgetown, she’d rarely managed to settle in for the night this early. Of course, then she’d been managing The Wickham, and if she hadn’t been dealing with some small crisis or handling a guest request, she’d been enjoying the nightlife.

  The town of Boonsboro, tucked into the foothills of Maryland’s Blue Ridge Mountains, might have a rich and storied history, and it certainly had its charms—among which she counted the revitalized inn she now managed—but it wasn’t famed for its nightlife.

  That would change a bit when her friend Avery opened her restaurant and tap house. And wouldn’t it be fun to see what the energetic Avery MacTavish did with her new enterprise right next door—and just across The Square from Avery’s pizzeria.

  Before summer ended, Avery would juggle the running of two restaurants, Hope thought.

  And people called her an overachiever.

  She looked around the kitchen—clean, shiny, warm and welcoming. She’d already sliced fruit, checked the supplies, restocked the refrigerator. So everything sat ready for Carolee to prepare breakfast for the guests currently tucked in their rooms.

  She’d finished her paperwork, checked all the doors, and made her rounds checking for dishes—or anything else—out of place. Duties done, she told herself, and still she wasn’t ready to tuck her own self in her third-floor apartment.

  Instead she poured an indulgent glass of wine and did a last circle through The Lobby, switching off the chandelier over the central table with its showy summer flowers.

  She moved through the arch, gave the front door one last check before she turned toward the stairs. Her fingers trailed lightly over the iron banister.

  She’d already checked The Library, but she checked again. It wasn’t anal, she told herself. A guest might have slipped in for a glass of Irish or a book. But the room was quiet, settled like the rest.

  She glanced back. She had guests on this floor. Mr. and Mrs. Vargas—Donna and Max—married twenty-seven years. The night at the inn, in Nick and Nora, had been a birthday gift for Donna from their daughter. And wasn’t that sweet?

  Her other guests, a floor up in Wesley and Buttercup, chose the inn for their wedding night. She liked to think the newlyweds, April and Troy, would take lovely, lasting memories with them.

  She checked the door to the second-level porch, then on impulse unlocked it and stepped out into the night.

  With her wine, she crossed the wide wood deck, leaned on the rail. Across The Square, the apartment above Vesta sat dark—and empty now that Avery had moved in with Owen Montgomery. Hope could admit—to herself anyway—that she missed looking over and knowing her friend was right there, just across Main.

  But Avery was exactly where she belonged, Hope decided, with Owen, her first and, as it turned out, her last boyfriend.

  Talk about sweet.

  And she’d help plan a wedding—May bride, May flowers—right there in The Courtyard, just as Clare’s had been this past spring.

  Thinking of it, Hope looked down Main toward the bookstore. Clare’s Turn The Page had been a risk for a young widow with two children and another on the way. But she’d made it work. Clare had a knack for making things work. Now she was Clare Montgomery, Beckett’s wife. And when winter came, they’d welcome a new baby to the mix.

  Odd, wasn’t it, that her two friends had lived right in Boonsboro for so long, and she’d relocated only the year—not even a full year yet—before. The new kid in town.

  Now, of the three of them, she was the only one still right here, right in the heart of town.

  Silly to miss them when she saw them nearly every day, but on
restless nights she could wish, just a little, they were still close.

  So much had changed, for all of them, in this past year.

  She’d been perfectly content in Georgetown, with her home, her work, her routine. With Jonathan, the cheating bastard.

  She’d had good, solid plans, no rush, no hurry, but solid plans. The Wickham had been her place. She’d known its rhythm, its tones, its needs. And she’d done a hell of a job for the Wickhams and their cheating bastard son, Jonathan.

  She’d planned to marry him. No, there’d been no formal engagement, no concrete promises, but marriage and future had been