Winter Peril

by Pinder, Victoria

  Outside the sliding doors, the rest of the house waited beyond his library. Coldness enveloped the place. In here, electricity and heat kept them alive.

  How did Gabriel intend to live alone all winter? What man lived like this? A criminal? She opened her eyes. No, she’d bet money on her instincts. He wasn’t that. His life remained a mystery, and he deserved her kindness.

  Through the rest of the house, she’d see into his world. She rubbed her chin. What happened here? Who was Gabriel? Was he the dark angel she’d first seen? No man was a true angel, though, and she shouldn’t believe in anything but what was in front of her face.

  Goose bumps formed on her arm. Was someone watching her from the mirror? She stared at it then shook her head. Paranoia wouldn’t help her.

  Somewhere in this house, she’d get signal on her cell phone. She turned on the power button and saw Unavailable.

  With a heavy swallow for courage, she brushed her raw skin to calm down. She’d find service today. Then she opened the door into a small hallway. The icy floor brushed against her big feet in too-small slippers. She sucked in her breath and ran. The wooden floor soon became marble, and the ice against her heels worsened. The cold on her feet sent pain through her limbs and numbed her. She’d ask for her closed-toe shoes back.

  At the end of the hall, she stepped back into the library and wiggled her toes to warm up. The fire helped. A moment later she had a tickling sensation in her nose. The cold dissipated. The kitchen was likely the big room she passed earlier. She went out the side door and stepped onto some square-patterned tiles where her feet didn’t freeze, and she glanced into a modern kitchen. She slid off one of her too-small slippers to lift her leg and massage her toes for warmth.

  Tonight, they’d eat well. She could make a dinner out of almost any ingredients.

  A minute later, she took a deep breath. The cold that gnawed at her stopped its climb up her leg, and she slid her slipper back on.

  She took a step then stopped to check her phone. Still no service.

  Food was a staple of life, though, and she opened the refrigerator to see it was well stocked. Good. The man must have shopped. She opened the cabinets. There were multiple cans as well. Another cabinet held utensils and cookware. She shrugged, then closed the drawer and told herself, “Gabriel must cook a lot.”

  “I do.”

  Her heart almost fell out of her chest. She twirled around. He leaned against the wall in the hallway that led back to their bedrooms. His black T-shirt clung to his muscles and left little to the imagination. Her mouth watered. With a gulp, she stared at his black, filthy, scratched hands—what was he up to? The coldness enveloped her heart, but she held together. “What happened to your hands?”

  She pocketed her cell phone then glanced up to see his eyes.

  “Nothing. I came to wash off.”

  He pointed to the sink, with one plate in it and a glass cup. She shook her head. “Where are your bandages? I want to check those cuts on your hands.”

  Silence greeted her ears.

  To help, she turned the water on, but she gave him her back. “I’ll wash the dishes in the sink and help out while I’m here.”

  He pressed his shoulder on her back to stop her, and she turned her torso to shield herself. Excitement coursed through her, but now was not the time. His deep voice was almost hypnotic. “You’re more lucid now. Let me wash up, and then I’ll show you the place. Give me a minute.”

  She glanced around and stared at his strong backside. She craned her neck to follow his movements until he went into another room. Intense heat coursed up her body and stole her breath. Her nerve endings fired up, and she needed her control.

  She smiled. Her muscles had stopped being so tense next to him. Doubts weren’t healthy, and he’d been hospitable.

  Her hands went to her back pocket, and she slipped her phone out. Battery low flashed in the upper corner of the screen. She gulped then powered it down.

  Footsteps echoed behind her in the hallway. She tilted her neck and strained to ignore his handsome face and stare at his hands. He had cut himself, and that new scar on his hand must be painful. “Ouch.”

  He gazed into her eyes, and her cheeks heated. How was a stare chocolate-succulent? “I’m fine. Don’t worry about this.”

  He made no sense. She sucked in her breath and planted her legs wider. “I want to help.”

  “I don’t need help.” His tone echoed another statement of “leave me alone.” He avoided her and went back to the sink. With his back turned, he never saw her chest cave in a little.

  As she inhaled, she tried again to take charge, though the hairs on the back of her neck rose again. Someone near hated her. Erica twirled around then stopped herself. She stared at a wall and swore there was someone else there. Nothing stirred.

  There’s no such thing as ghosts. She stood next to Gabriel and picked up his hand to stare at the cut. “That needs to be bandaged.”

  He withdrew his hand but a spark coursed through her.

  Her neck still prickled. Was someone else here? Her chest tingled, but then she stared into his sexy brown eyes. Warmth returned. He grumbled next to her, “I was in the Marines. I know how to take care of myself.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “Men never know how to take care of themselves.”

  He shook his head, and she swore he rolled his eyes at her. “You must have known a lot of boys, not men.”

  Scratch.

  Erica flinched. Had she heard fingernails or were her ears playing some tricks on her? She stared around the room at the empty walls, and didn’t see anyone. Distracted, she dropped her hands and inhaled. “Did you hear something?”

  He ran his hands through his hair and stared at her, unsure. She bit her lip and rocked on her feet a bit. The nearness of him kept her warm, and she shrugged. “Okay. I don’t talk to many men unless it’s about work.”

  He stared at her with those eyes that made her knees weak then smiled. “The boys near your house are obviously blind. Where are you from?”

  She smiled, and the weight on her chest dissipated. “I grew up in Miami.”

  He turned off the water and dried his hands. “That place breeds plastic.”

  Despite his protest, she checked out his hand and took it closer to her face for inspection. Her heart raced now, but it was the opposite of her heavy heart a moment ago. Gabriel was sweet, and she bounced a bit on her toes. “I dated a few men who needed me to make more money because they didn’t have motivation beyond appearing good.”

  He shook his head. “Physically, I’m a mess.”

  “That’s a lie.” Her eyes widened then she licked her lips. “You’ve the body gym rats envy.”

  With a shrug, he hung the towel on a shelf. “I work with my hands.”

  To stay busy, she decided to quickly wash what was in the sink. Her paranoia stayed in the back of her head. This house was creepy, and perhaps her foolishness was from being near a sexy man. Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She had no idea how to act in front of a man with Gabriel’s physical blessings. His hand brushed her back. She jumped at the sink and almost dropped the cup in her hand. Instead she caught herself, then relaxed. “I’m nervous around you.”

  “Why?”

  She turned toward him and took his hand in hers. “Because in the darkness and cold, I couldn’t take care of myself, and I owe you.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Anyone would do the same, ma’am. I don’t like the smell of death in this house. There is too much of it already.”

  “Death?” She leaned back a bit.

  He stared at the ground and shook his head. Then he blushed. “I’m not good with conversations. I misspoke.”

  She kept her hand on top of his. “Don’t. You can’t say keep saying ‘death’ and not explain.”

  He shook his head, but answered, “My wife died here.”

  The note. She chewed her lip. “Was she the blonde in the lobby portrait?”

  “She al
ways had a high opinion of herself.” He stared at the ground. “Yes, that was her.”

  Erica’s instincts had been spot on. Her gut also said he had nothing to do with her death. Finished with the dishes, she turned the water off. Besides, if she didn’t trust him, things would end up bad. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “We shouldn’t have secrets. You saw my naughty bits. Relax.”

  His cheeks turned red. “I tried not to stare at all.”

  Her heartbeat thumped in her chest. She mirrored how he stood, stared at the ground, and held her left arm with her right hand, as she admitted, “I’d be more embarrassed after that moment if you walked away without a peek.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “You were lucky that you made it here.”

  “I’m a survivor.” She shrugged. “Most men never notice me no matter what I wear or don’t wear.”

  His eyes widened, and he gazed at her. “Are you joking, woman? You’re beautiful.”

  Her genuine smile appeared until something flew past the window outside. She jumped then laughed at herself. The storm seemed never ending, but her internal fire burned on. “I don’t know if it’s morning or night with the storm outside.”

  “It’s early evening.”

  The flutters in her stomach grew from the nearness of him. She stared at the floor. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “I already said this: Any man would do the same.” He turned to leave.

  “Not the men I know.” She shrugged and dropped her hands. “I tend to date self-centered men who wouldn’t.”

  His eyebrow went up, but he kept his gaze off her. “Go. Relax in my den if you can. Give me a few hours to get a few more things for the bedroom I prepared for you. Last night I rushed, and I still have the bureau to get back in there. That storm out there could leave us stranded for a month or more, and you’ll need supplies.”

  Her throat constricted. A month? She couldn’t speak for a minute. She flinched at a flash of light outside. The window rattled in the wind. Her heart beat rapidly.

  Gabriel turned to leave again. She touched his back, but that sent sparks through her. “Wait. You promised me a tour.”

  His muscles tightened. Then he turned to stare at her for a long while, and somehow, she calmed down. His grim face showed how unhappy he was. “It’s better we don’t talk. I’ll show you the room I’m preparing for you.”

  “Why not? We’re stuck together.”

  He said nothing. Her body shook from a chill every time he walked away. Her mind raced. “We need to talk. How much food do you have?”

  A sigh escaped his lips and he stepped farther away. “I’ve enough for me for a year. There is enough to survive if we’re stranded for winter.”

  Why did a man need that much food? Grocery stores were everywhere. Even Maine had one every few miles. “It snows that much?”

  At the door, he answered her, “Not always, but this year it might.”

  It might not. She kept the thought to herself.

  She followed him down the hall and paid more attention. They passed three doors—two on the left, one on the right. At the next one on the right, he pushed the knob and she stared at his unusually muscular arms and callused hands. The men she knew in Miami had soft hands. Gabriel’s rough hands had brushed against her naked skin, and it was the most erotic moment she had experienced in her life.

  With a gulp, she stepped into the cold room. He went to start a fire. The warmth in her kept the chill at bay. She stared around Gabriel and into the room. The bed she’d slept on had been newly made. The window looked sturdy, with a good view of the bleak sky.

  She went farther in. Female clothes hung in the closet. “Did you put these here for me?”

  “No. I unlocked the door.” He grimaced then nodded. “Clothes are a normal want, and if you’re stuck you’ll need a few. Yours are in the laundry. This is what I have here. Please make a pile in the coming days of ones that won’t fit your more ample form.”

  A gasp escaped her lips. She stepped into the closet and noticed the size labels. “I’ve never been petite a day in my life, but I will figure out something. The women in my family all get breasts and hips.”

  He tilted his head. “I wasn’t complaining, Erica. I like looking at you.”

  “Thank you. I like looking at you too.”

  Had she just said that out loud?

  He crossed his arms and his lips were sealed, like he had slipped.

  She straightened her long nightgown and pressed her palm to the material. “I’ll figure out what I can wear of these. It’s not like I have anything of my own.”

  With his hands clenched, he stepped backward into the darkness. “Take whatever you need in here. I’m glad I didn’t bother to burn this stuff, as I had planned.”

  A bonfire of clothes sounded drastic. She scratched her head and left the closet. Then she went back into the room and caught his stare. “That’s an intense thought.”

  He backed up to the door, though he unclenched his fists. “I should go.”

  She couldn’t let him disappear. Not yet. Her body stayed attuned to the fact that he fought memories. She wanted to help. Her voice went higher. “Wait. What are the other rooms?”

  He stood still and didn’t walk away, though his face had edges of pain. He answered with a clenched jaw, “Bathroom is across the hall. Next door is the laundry room. First door is the living room, not that much is there. You know the library already. Feel free to roam those rooms. My bedroom is farther down the hall. Stay out of there.”

  She reached up to touch him, and he flinched. Was he repulsed? Her chin trembled. “Gabriel, don’t . . . thank you. I’d be dead without you.”

  “You fought to stay alive.” Gabriel winced and shook his head. “Just stay out of my way. Now leave, go back to the den, and let me finish fixing the room and start a fire here for you.”

  One minute he’s super nice, and now he’s standoffish again. Her eyes darted to the fireplace. She wished she had her mother to talk to. Gabriel made no sense. “Thank you.”

  She intended to walk past him and go to the den/library—whatever he wanted to call the room. Then she brushed against his hand, and electricity coursed through her body. Strange. The man made no sense, and she let the impulse go.

  In a flash, she focused on the walls. Something else was here, and the ache in the back of her throat wasn’t the start of a cold.

  Gabriel stepped back, and she couldn’t let him go. The small apartment in the huge chateau would be enough for now, if Gabriel was who she yearned for.

  He took another step, and she couldn’t walk away without a touch. Instinctually, she reached out and stroked his arm to offer comfort.

  Then her mouth found his again.

  He kissed her as if a dam had burst inside of him. His kiss burned into her, and she knew she hadn’t imagined anything. His lips tasted salty and sweet and intoxicated her senses. With a contented groan, she leaned into him, held him close, and raked her hands down his back.

  His kiss sent a risqué hum down her, and she lost control.

  When he suddenly yanked her off him, he made a gruff noise that said he had reacted the same way. For a moment they did nothing but stare at each other. Finally, he leaned over to pick her up. Her body jostled in his embrace. “Not here. I haven’t built the fire yet. It’s too cold for you.”

  As he carried her against his well-formed chest back toward the den, he held her snugly and she listened to his heartbeat. Like hers, his raced. This invisible web of attraction to Gabriel had her acting all out of character. The businesswoman had disappeared here, and she now was acting more like her sister. Erica had never been free-spirited until now. The tired woman upset that hospitals didn’t work miracles dissipated. Something primal tore through her.

  Perhaps she hoped to celebrate every second now. She was alive. Gabriel’s strong lips left her mouth with a constant ache for his kiss. She’d heard about good sex all her life, and her mind earlier ha
d been cloudy. Unlike most women, it seemed, she’d never had good sex. Sex had always been over fast so that she could get back to work. She wet her lips with her tongue and imagined she’d experience what women whispered about as a “release,” if Gabriel took her.

  He put her down, and she flung herself into him. His lips shattered any doubts she had, and he left her mouth with a tingle of excitement that burned for more.

  She stood on her tiptoes, buried her face in his neck, and left a small kiss there.

  With a tortured grunt, he tore himself away. Her head spun out of control. He had kissed her back. “Erica, I . . . shouldn’t.”

  “Don’t think.” She stood up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m here. We’re alive.”

  Something dark stormed through his body, and he stepped back. He ran his hands down his hair again and spun away. “No, I was wrong. This cannot happen between us. You deserve better.”

  Her throat constricted, and he ran out of the room.

  Out of breath, she tried to stop her heart racing. She held her hands close to her chest. Gabriel set off a strange desire in her that she’d never experienced in her life. Until him, she steered clear of attractive men, and never had these sparks of awareness. She knew with certainty she’d acted way out of character, and it didn’t matter here.

  She’d not be here forever.

  No one would believe Erica Mira—the cook and baker with big dreams to take over an abandoned cake factory to market her own brand of tasty treats nationwide—ever entertained erotic thoughts about men. She’d been called cold, logical, and boring. She licked her lips and listened to her heartbeat. She’d never been that fulfilled from sex to care.

  The fever he awoke in a kiss was new. Until him, despite the science classes she’d taken, she wondered if the stories women told one another about orgasms were just that. She had questioned if the entire response was made up for Internet junkies and romance readers. Now the pulse of desire stayed strong. In the past, she’d always cooled fast after a man’s kiss. Perhaps with Gabriel it was real.