One Night

by Debbie Macomber

  Carrie stared down at the worn beige carpet. It looked cold and hard. He’d spent the previous night in a jail cell and must be as bone weary as she was.

  “No,” she answered finally, on the tail end of a yawn, “but please stay on your side.”

  “Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about,” he muttered. “Just you promise me one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “That you won’t touch me.” He chuckled, but Carrie found little humor in his attempt at sarcasm.

  She reached for the sack that contained a pair of shortie pajamas and her heart sank as she thought about her other purchases. Her shopping expedition hadn’t gone nearly as well as she would have liked.

  “Would you mind if I use the bathroom first?” she asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  After a long soak in a hot bath, Carrie felt worlds better. Regretting the way she had complained about the one room and the lone bed, she figured she owed Kyle an apology. But when she came back into the room, she discovered he was sound asleep, so close to the edge of the mattress that he was in danger of tumbling off.

  Smiling softly to herself, Carrie turned off the lamp on the bed stand and peeled back the covers. The bed was king-size, big enough for a family of five. There really wasn’t anything to worry about. She regretted having made such a fuss.

  She slipped between the cool sheets, pounded the pillow a couple of times to mold it to her liking, and then slowly, gratefully, closed her eyes.

  Carrie was sleeping so deeply that the sound of running water filtered into her subconscious. She found herself staring at the moving surface of a pond. Beams of moonlight radiated off the black water and small waves rippled from the middle, slowly making their way toward the sandy beach.

  On closer inspection she realized someone was swimming. She strained to see into the dark night, and after a moment she recognized Kyle.

  Suddenly, without warning, he turned and held one hand invitingly toward her. Her first reaction was to hide behind a flowering bush, but he laughed, the sound of his mirth coming on the misty arms of welcome.

  He called to her then, his voice almost lyrical. Still Carrie resisted. The urge to join him grew stronger. He was bare-chested, and for the first time she realized what a powerful man he was. His torso was strong and hard without the heavy muscles of a body builder. A thatch of curly dark hairs covered his chest and narrowed to a sleek line down the center of his abdomen.

  The reasons why Carrie should ignore his invitation grew weaker and more flimsy as she listened to his coaxing.

  Without conscious decision, she stepped out from behind the bush and walked toward the pond. To her delight it was as warm as bathwater. As she moved boldly toward Kyle, he stepped toward her. They met waist deep in the water, neither speaking, neither touching.

  She looked up at him and saw his eyes were dark and intense. She smiled.

  He placed his arm around her waist and drew her closer, as if he had every right to claim her as his own. She looped her arms around his neck, threw back her head, and…

  Carrie bolted upright in bed, breathing heavily, clenching the sheet to her breasts. Only then did she realize it had all been a dream.

  Kyle stood just inside the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around his waist. He would have looked mouthwateringly sexy if his face hadn’t been covered with thick shaving cream. Even at that, she took a moment to appreciate what should have been apparent to her all these months. Kyle was one hell of a man.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I dropped the can. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “No problem,” she murmured. The sound of water, she realized, had been from the shower. She laid her head back down on the pillow, flooded with a deep sense of disappointment.

  Several minutes later, Kyle finished whatever he was doing and turned off the bathroom light. He appeared to believe she’d gone back to sleep and made every effort to be as quiet as possible. He was having some trouble making his way in the dark and must have stubbed his toe, because she heard a dull noise followed by a muted curse.

  Sitting up, she reached for the lamp switch. Soft light illuminated the room. “Are you all right?” she asked, rising up on one elbow.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered, hopping toward the bed. “I didn’t need that toenail for anything important anyway.”

  “Turning on a light isn’t a sign of weakness, you know,” she said, exasperated not so much by him but by men in general and their ever-present need to appear macho.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said tightly. “It didn’t have anything to do with weakness. I was being considerate.”

  “You’d already awakened me.”

  “I thought you might have gone back to sleep.”

  “I hadn’t.”

  “Obviously.” He pulled back the sheets and climbed into the bed, making certain he remained as far away from her as humanly possible. A couple of seconds later, he rolled onto his side, then a minute later onto his back.

  “You settled now?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She turned off the lamp, and the room returned to instant night. Not so much as a glimmer of moonlight showed through the heavy drapes.

  “How long have you been up?” she asked into the silence.

  “An hour or so. I fell asleep waiting for you to get out of the bathroom, then woke and knew I’d never get back to sleep until I’d showered and shaved.”

  “I shouldn’t have hogged the tub for so long.” She did feel bad about that. She’d been thoughtless and inconsiderate.

  “Don’t worry about it. I was asleep in five minutes flat.”

  The scent of his aftershave drifted toward her, and she found herself drawing in deep breaths of the pungent scent of rum and spice. He smelled of a Caribbean island, of sunshine and sandy beaches. As he had in her dream. She could feel the heat of his body.

  “In all the confusion about the room, I didn’t tell you what happened when I went shopping,” she said, forcing herself to think of something other than the man next to her.

  “Something happened while you were shopping?”

  “Sort of. In light of the fact that I technically don’t have a job when we return, I didn’t feel I should be running up my credit cards.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “The saleslady was very helpful. They had several items marked down to a rock-bottom price. According to her, a convent outside of town closed last year. The nuns used to order their shoes and such through the store, so there were several items in my size at a good price, especially the shoes.”

  “What exactly did you buy?”

  “Nun shoes and a long black skirt. No one will know that a rosary’s supposed to be strung along the waist—at least that’s what the sales clerk claimed.”

  “Nun shoes?”

  “They’re heavy black things that are all the rage with teenagers now, but don’t worry; no one will be able to see them under my skirt. I really didn’t need shoes, but I couldn’t resist them at that price.”

  Kyle chuckled, but it was obvious he’d struggled to hold it and failed.

  “The blouse isn’t so bad, although it buttons all the way up to my nose.” She was the one who laughed this time.

  The sound of her mirth drifted into silence.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to laugh,” he whispered.

  “Why?”

  “Because I get this uncontrollable urge…”

  He rolled onto his stomach and raised his head. Their eyes met and held.

  “Carrie?” His voice was low and rough.

  When she didn’t answer, he tucked his finger beneath her chin and elevated her face until it was level with his own. Then slowly, as if waiting for her to stop him, he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met tentatively, experimentally. His were warm and moist as they settled over hers.

  The kiss was gentle and sweet, and Carrie trembled in its aftermath. All at once she fel
t terribly confused. This couldn’t be happening. Not between her and Kyle Harris.

  Nor should her heart be reacting this strange way. She eased away from him and discovered how cold and lonely it was outside his embrace. She wanted back, and with sweet abandon she leaned into his strength.

  When his mouth claimed hers a second time, all gentleness was put aside. It was as though he were a starving man and she a Thanksgiving dinner. Carrie felt herself responding as if she’d been held and kissed by him countless times, as if they were long-time lovers, intimately aware of every nuance of each other.

  His tongue searched out hers, and she gave it to him without restraint as they played a game of hide and seek, seek and find, discovery and renewal. Her initial response had been shy, but she gained confidence as they continued the sensual pursuit. Their mouths twisted and angled against each other, seeking more fully to absorb the experience.

  Carrie knew she should put an end to this. Yet, even knowing this was a mistake, something that would later embarrass them both, she couldn’t make herself stop.

  Kyle’s hands framed her face and he whispered God’s name, but she had the distinct impression he wasn’t praying. His mouth sought hers once more, his kiss incredibly tender. Their lips clung as Carrie reluctantly eased away.

  She discovered she was breathless, with little wonder. She couldn’t very well claim she hadn’t been kissed before, but she’d never experienced the powerful impact she did when Kyle kissed her. Her forehead was against his, and she kept her eyes closed, fearing what she’d discover if she opened them.

  Kyle’s hold on her tightened briefly, as if he wasn’t yet able to release her. She didn’t want to leave him either, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Not until then did she notice how harsh his own breathing was. It helped to know he was experiencing some of the same feelings.

  “Those aren’t exactly nun pajamas,” he murmured breathlessly, as if in excuse.

  “No.”

  “How about we try to get some sleep?”

  Kyle envied Carrie her ability to fall asleep. He was having trouble himself, and not because he wasn’t tired. Carrie lay on her side, her back to him. She shifted her weight, and her tight buttocks grazed his thigh. He meant to move away, yet he couldn’t make himself break this contact with her.

  Rolling onto his side, he scooted next to Carrie, fitting his knees behind hers and resting his hand on the gentle curve of her hip. They fit comfortably together. It was as if he’d arrived home after a long trouble-filled journey. Closing his eyes, he felt his body relax as he drifted off to sleep, a smile on his lips.

  The following morning, the first thing Kyle realized gratefully was that he was back on his side of the mattress.

  If everything went according to schedule, they should arrive in Dallas in plenty of time for the cocktail party that evening. Although Carrie had complained her new clothes came straight from a convent, Kyle had no objection to her dressing like a nun. He’d prefer it if other men assumed she was broadcasting for one of the religious networks. He was far more comfortable having her wear a habit to the party than those shortie pajamas of hers. Those things would tempt a monk.

  “Good morning,” Carrie whispered.

  “Morning. You ready to hit the road?” He couldn’t think of anything better to say.

  The words were followed by a short silence. “Not quite. I just woke up.”

  “I’ll get dressed and get us some coffee,” he suggested. “Want some?”

  “Please.”

  He waited until her head was turned before climbing out of bed and quickly dressing. By the time he returned with the coffee, she was dressed and moving around the room. He noticed that her eyes didn’t quite meet his when he handed her the steaming cup.

  “I should be ready to leave in just a few minutes,” she told him softly.

  “Take your time.”

  She shot him a look as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, which wasn’t unreasonable since he’d been keen to be on the road as quickly as possible.

  It took her less than ten minutes to collect her things. Kyle turned in their keys at the front office, and without another delay they were off.

  Not until they’d left town did he think about breakfast. “You hungry?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay, then our next stop is Dallas.” That should get a rise out of her, and it did.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He glanced her way and grinned. “Destination Dallas, with a stop or two along the way.”

  “That’s more like it,” she said, smiling.

  There should be a way to package that smile of hers, Kyle mused. Funny, he’d never realized how appealing it was before, but then he regretfully acknowledged there hadn’t been much chance to get to see it. Not with them snapping at each other at every opportunity.

  He glanced over at her and noticed she was picking at her nails. She only did that when she was uptight about something. He didn’t need a crystal ball to figure out what it was.

  “I guess we should probably talk about what happened last night.” He wasn’t getting any awards for diplomacy. He just wished to hell he knew what she was thinking.

  “Last night?”

  “I don’t think we need to make a federal case over a kiss,” he commented, then glanced in her direction. “Do you?”

  “No, of course we don’t. As you said, it was just a kiss.”

  “Right.” He seemed satisfied, but Carrie was unwilling to drop the subject.

  “It’s understandable, really.”

  “How’s that?” Kyle wanted to know.

  “You have to admit we’ve been through a good deal of emotional trauma in the last forty-eight hours.”

  “Exactly.” He appeared to be in full enthusiastic agreement.

  “It isn’t every day you meet up with an escaped felon and get held at gunpoint, kidnapped, and then subjected to an interrogation by the Secret Service.”

  “Or spend the night in jail,” he added.

  She sighed and gestured feebly with her hands. “So it all makes a crazy kind of sense that you and I…that the two of us, being thrown together this way, would…bond in ways we hadn’t previously.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said, and nodded once for emphasis.

  “So we should ignore something as trivial as a kiss?” She made it a question because despite every excuse she’d offered. Carrie wasn’t sure what to think herself. Kyle’s kiss had meant something, only she wasn’t sure what.

  “Ignoring it seems the best option,” he said. “It isn’t likely to happen again.”

  So she was right. Kyle wanted to dismiss it, pretend it didn’t happen, disregard the sensual explosion. If that was the case, she could say nothing more.

  Carrie swallowed her disappointment. “It’ll never happen again,” she assured him.

  “Right.”

  Kyle blamed himself for this mess. He should have known they were headed for trouble the moment he learned there was only one hotel room available. His hands tightened around the steering wheel and he slowly released his breath, wondering what he was going to do.

  “Kyle.”

  “Yes,” he answered anxiously.

  “I think we should have turned, back there.”

  “Back where?”

  “That Y in the road. According to the map, we should have gone right.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t see any Y in the road.”

  “You didn’t?” She carefully read over the map, then shook her head. “I think we’re going the wrong way.” Her words cut into the strained silence.

  “We’re fine.”

  “Look at the map yourself if you don’t believe me,” she suggested calmly.

  Kyle was rip-roaring mad and so damned uncomfortable with the emotion that it was all he could do to keep the tires on the road. “We’re going the right way,” he insisted.

  “Time
will tell, won’t it?” she said, with the heavy sigh of a martyr.

  Time, as it turned out, was on her side. An hour later, Kyle was forced to admit they were hopelessly lost.

  7

  “Why don’t we ask someone for directions?” Carrie suggested.

  “Forget it,” Kyle said stiffly. “I know exactly where we are.”

  Carrie clenched her teeth to keep from commenting. This was another one of those macho he-man things like fumbling around in the dark and risking injury rather than admitting he needed the light to find his way back to bed.

  “Haven’t we seen that barn before?” she asked, hoping none of the sarcasm she was feeling showed. Not that Kyle was in any danger of losing his temper. The man didn’t allow himself the luxury of being angry—unless, of course, it could be directed at her.

  “No,” he said shortly. “That’s a different barn from the one we saw before.”

  “No, it isn’t.” It was the very one they’d passed no less than five times in the last hour. Carrie would stake her life on it. They’d been circling the area for so long she was dizzy. Getting Kyle to admit the truth would be difficult, cursed as he was with male pride.

  “At the risk of flirting with danger,” she said with a saccharine smile, “I’d like to suggest that it just might possibly be the same barn. If you’ll notice there’s a tractor parked out front, suggesting a farmhouse nearby. I was thinking—”

  “I know exactly where we are,” Kyle insisted heatedly.

  “So do I! We’re lost somewhere in the great state of Texas, and precisely where we are will be placed on our tombstones once we’re found and buried.”

  “Might I suggest you’re overreacting?”

  “No, you may not. Just this once appease me. Please, Kyle, just stop and ask directions.”

  “Carrie,” he said with a long-suffering glance in her direction, “in case you hadn’t noticed, there isn’t exactly a streetful of people to ask.”

  “We’ve driven past a dozen farms.”

  “I’ll look like an idiot,” he muttered.

  “Do you think you’ll be less of a man if you don’t figure this out on your own?” she inquired.