Nothing had changed since the night of their arrival when he’d hardly slept for thinking about Rosie. Their rooms were on completely different floors but still not far enough away. He couldn’t seem to get her off his mind long enough to get a whole night’s rest. He kept hoping sheer exhaustion would set in.
So much for isolation, peace and serenity. That idea had crashed and burned as soon as he’d knuckled and decided to bring Rosie with him. But there really hadn’t been any other choice if he was going to protect her reputation. Marrying her had seemed simple. He was beginning to realize that he hadn’t thought it through. He’d been so focused on protecting her from everyone else, he’d underestimated one detail.
Protecting her from himself.
Steve would rather cut off his right arm than hurt her. Calling this interlude a honeymoon, with all that the term implied, made him nervous. Not as nervous as being alone with her. He liked Rosie; he always had. Too much. And he didn’t trust himself to keep his distance. She deserved someone with a background like hers, a guy from a big family who had learned how to be a husband and father. Some day, when her life settled down, she would find that guy, and Steve would do his best to be happy for them.
He stood in the living room, staring out the picture window at the spectacular view of mountains, pine trees and blue sky. A storm earlier in the month had left two feet of snow on the ground.
“Hey, tiger,” she said, stopping beside him.
He jumped as if she were a covert operative launching an attack. “You should give a guy some warning,” he growled.
“I thought I did. Who tweaked your tail this morning?”
Apparently she’d sensed his caged tiger attitude and was jumping into the milieu right along with him.
He rubbed a hand down his face and his stubble
“Remind me to fix you some warm milk tonight.”
“Warm milk won’t cure what ails me,” he said under his breath.
“What?” she asked.
“I said, it’s warm and the azure sky hails me.”
“Since when do you wax poetic?” she scoffed. She looked out the window. “But it is a spectacular day.”
Definitely spectacular, he thought. Wide, open, and space for a man to lose himself along with everything that ailed him. Big enough to get away from Rosie and take the edge off his need.
“I think I’m going for a walk,” he said.
“What a wonderful idea.”
He groaned inwardly. She wanted to come along. How did he tell her that he desperately needed to be alone to get a grip on his out-of-control emotions? That her coming along would defeat his purpose? That this was a “cold shower” moment?
Instead he said, “It’s too cold for you.”
“I’ll bundle up.”
“I thought you weren’t feeling well. Morning sickness and all.”
“I’m feeling better now. It seems to have settled into something like functional nausea. And I have a lot more energy.”
“What about the altitude? Are you sure it’s safe to exercise in your condition?”
“My doctor advised exercise. The fresh air would be wonderful. I didn’t know that pregnancy was considered a physical limitation.”
Then the sparkle in her warm brown eyes sputtered like a worn out lightbulb and flickered out. There it
“Okay. But bundle up. Stragglers get left behind.”
When his words sank in, she smiled, and the radiance took his breath away.
“Last one out is a rotten egg,” she said, grabbing her jacket from the closet by the door.
Steve reached for his parka, then left it, figuring the cold would bring down his body temperature if not his libido. That was something, at least. It should do the trick. After all, by definition, the wide open spaces wasn’t big on privacy. What could happen?
Rosie’s low-topped boots clunked on the wooden deck and stairs as they descended to the walkway in front of the cabin. As if by mutual consent, they bypassed the snow-plowed road that meandered past the other cabins on Blue Jay Lane, and headed into the woods. The fresh, pine-scented air felt wonderful on her warm cheeks. Moving around drove away her lassitude. She wasn’t sure what had changed his mind about letting her come along, but she was grateful. Being with Steve always put her in a good mood.
In silence, they walked at a steady clip. He was moving fast, releasing some pent-up tension, she sensed. Or maybe it was just a guy thing, that need to focus, even if it was just a leisurely walk. Already slightly breathless, she wondered how much longer she could keep up with him. If the pace quickened any more, he would leave her in his dust or, in this case, a snowdrift.
Rosie cast a covert glance in his direction, then almost wished she hadn’t as her breathlessness hiked
Darn it, she hated when that happened. From out of the blue the attraction hit her. She didn’t want to be aware of him, not in a man/woman kind of way. Every time she did, her heart was left bruised and battered. She should have stood her ground in the airport and not let him convince her to come along with him.
It was bad enough that she had given in to his convincing rationale against her instincts of self-preservation. But now, after a week of being cooped up with a man who acted like a bear, she was walking by his side. On top of that, she was noticing that Steve Schafer would give the current Hollywood heartthrob a run for his fan club. Could disaster be far behind?
Rosie shivered and stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans. They were tighter than she’d noticed thern being a week before. Her figure was changing to accommodate the baby. That’s where her focus should be.
“You warm enough?” he asked, frowning at her.
She nodded. “You?”
“Yeah,” he said with more enthusiasm than she felt the temperature warranted. “You tired?”
“No way.” She glanced at him. “You?” she asked, wondering if he heard the hopeful note in her voice.
“Nope.”
They kept going in silence for a few more minutes.
He glanced over at her. “Am I walking too fast?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said, trying to hide her huffing and puffing. There was no way to camouflage the white cloud of her breath between them. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s just that we’re in Smokey the Bear country. Someone might mistake that smoke screen in front of your face for a forest fire.”
“Cute, Schafer, real cute.”
He slowed down. “This isn’t a race.”
“Don’t do me any favors.” She sucked in air. “I can keep up.”
“I know you can. But I’d appreciate it if you could cut me some slack. I’m not used to the altitude. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up here.”
“In that case,” she said magnanimously, “I’ll ease up on you.”
“So that’s how you want to play it?” There was a glint in his eyes, putting her on notice that he would do something.
Resting his hands on his knees, he bent as if to catch his breath. With the grace, agility and speed of a big cat, he leaned down, and picked up a handful of snow. Before she could react, he’d tossed it at her, hitting her squarely in the face. She gasped at the cold and her cheeks tingled.
“You’re dead meat, Schafer.”
Rosie grabbed a snowball and hurled it in his direction. He ducked and the frozen missile arced harmlessly by his ear.
He grinned. “You never could hit the broad side of a barn, Ro.”
She put her hands on her hips and feigned indignance as the blood sang in her veins. Exhilaration bubbled through her and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive.
“This is war, Schafer. I’ll give you one chance to say uncle, then all bets are off and I show no mercy, take no prisoners.”
He laughed and shook his head pityingly. “Misguided spunk. I like that about you, Ro.”
“Squirt is bad enough. But never under any c
ircumstances call me spunky.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
“So you’re not going to surrender?” she asked.
When he shook his head, his conquering-hero grin widened. How many women had fallen at his feet on account of that smile? Insufferable man, she thought. She would show him. “When your male ego is trounced into a whimpering, bleeding mass in the snow, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t. Usual rules?” he asked.
She nodded. “There are no rules.”
He loped off through the trees and Rosie knew he was gathering ammunition for guerilla warfare. She needed to find a snowbank to defend and stockpile her own arsenal. When she was ready, she peered into the woods, watching and waiting, her heart beating hard in anticipation. Soon she caught a glimpse of his blue-green plaid shirt as he skulked from tree to tree, trying to get around behind her.
She shifted her position, always keeping the mound of snow between them. Finally, she heard his rendition of a Confederate yell as he broke through the woods lobbing snowballs in her direction. The small hill protected her. When his stores were used up, she
She chased him down and made several direct hits. With four snowballs left, she tossed them at him one after the other, until his shirtfront was dripping and his wet hair hung in his eyes.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” she asked.
“Okay,” he answered. But she didn’t trust the way he held one hand behind his back.
“You haven’t said uncle yet,” she reminded him.
For every step he took toward her, she moved back an equal distance. When a tree stopped her retreat, Steve pounced. Her parka was unfastened. She squealed as he stuck a handful of snow down the front of her sweatshirt. Suddenly his feet slipped and he went down into the soft snow on his back. Rosie went with him and landed on top.
He was breathing hard and clouds of white filled the small distance between their faces. Their lips nearly touched. His blue eyes went from teasing to intense in zero point four seconds. Rosie was sure he could feel her heart pounding. More than anything, she wanted to know what his kiss would feel like. Just once. She knew if she ignored this chance, she would regret it as long as she lived.
She lowered her mouth to his.
His lips were soft and warm. He tasted of coffee and fresh air and snow and especially surprise. When she pulled away and stared into his eyes, Rosie knew she’d made a big mistake. This was going to be another in a long list of humiliating moments where Steve Schafer was concerned.
Steve struggled to control his emotions, which were fast escalating out of control. His first reaction was
He’d known about Rosie’s girlhood crush on him. He’d have had to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be aware of it. As he stared into her big, beautiful, brown eyes he wondered if she still harbored any of those feelings. He couldn’t help hoping. But he knew better than to believe a woman could love him. Wanting was something else. Desire he recognized and understood. Seeing it on Rosie’s face struck a corresponding chord in his own soul. At the same time, he saw that she was scared and unsure. That was his undoing.
When she started to lever herself off him, he tightened his arms around her. He raised his head, touching his mouth to hers. At that moment he forgot that he was wet and cold, ignored his need to distance himself from her, and overlooked the fact that she was off limits to him.
Nothing mattered but the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, the warmth of her body intimately snuggling into his, and her ragged breathing that matched his own.
Their mouths never parted as he rolled them onto their sides, cushioning Rosie with his arm as he held her. They were creating enough heat to melt the snow around them. Steve struggled for restraint as the flash fire of passion raced through him. Desperately he fought for control as Rosie snuggled trustingly against him. He’d wanted her for so long.
Instinct took over and he surrendered to her temptation. He couldn’t raise the will to stop himself as he cupped her breast in his palm. Supreme male satisfaction spread through him when she moaned then wiggled herself more intimately into the touch.
Steve nibbled her full top lip and heat surged through him as her mouth opened to welcome him inside. Her tongue mated with his as they mimicked the consummation that their bodies yearned for.
Her curves beckoned, and he slid his hand down her hip and thigh, then back up to her waist. When his fingers stopped at the snap of her jeans, she sighed and exhilaration poured through him. A twist of his fingers unhooked the closure. He started to do more and she shivered. That stopped him cold. He went still.
What the hell was he doing?
He sat up.
“What’s wrong, Steve?”
“You’re cold. Let’s go back to the cabin before you catch cold.”
“But—”
He got to his feet, and pulled her up, too. “No buts. Pneumonia wouldn’t be good for you—” he glanced down at the open snap of her jeans “—or the baby.”
Without giving her an opportunity to protest, he took her arm and headed them back to the cabin. Her hurt and confusion was almost tangible, but he knew this was for the best.
He chanced a glance at her, then wished he hadn’t. His heart caught, she looked so beautiful, sexy, like a woman who had just made love to a man. Her silky hair was a riotous mass of curls bracketing her rosy
God, how could he have been so stupid? He was despicable, the lowest form of existence. For all his noble intentions, the first time he got close to her, he’d done what he’d promised himself he would never do. Not only had he kissed her, he’d touched her with every intention of doing more. If her shiver hadn’t brought him to his senses, he’d have a hell of a lot more to be sorry for. So much for safety in the great outdoors.
It would never happen again, he promised himself.
Four days after kissing Steve—the biggest mistake of her life—Rosie had never felt so lonely in her life. He’d hardly spoken to her since. He either buried himself in books, or went out for walks. There wasn’t any question of her going along since he never invited her. She’d always thought the phrase “passive aggressive” made no sense. But his silent treatment screamed loud and clear that he hadn’t much use for her.
She thought about the philosophical question of whether or not a tree falling in the woods made noise. Putting her own spin on it, she wondered if there was any sound when a woman kissed a man in the woods.
“Just the crack of my heart,” she said to herself.
This was just too pitiful, she decided. They had three more days before it was time to go home and face the family. She would have to grow some gumption then, so she might as well start now. She would not sit around and “poor me” herself for what would never be.
She glanced across the living room where Steve was hiding behind the latest hardback techno-thriller.
“Steve?”
“Hmm?” he said, not looking up.
“I’m going stir crazy. Would you mind if I borrowed your car and drove into the village?”
The book lowered and he stared at her. “They’re predicting snow for the mountains.”
“Not till later tonight. I’ll be back before then.”
He slammed the novel shut. “I don’t think driving is such a good idea. The roads are pretty slick.”
“You’re worried about your car.” She headed for the telephone. “I’ll call a cab.”
He sprang out of the chair, then crossed the room and stopped beside her. “I’m concerned about you.”
Yeah, and the moon is made of green cheese, she thought. If he cared at all for her, he wouldn’t treat her like a West Point cadet who’d been caught cheating on a test. She now had firsthand experience with how well the silent treatment worked as a punishment.
She took pride in the fact that she hadn’t voiced those thoughts. Especially since she couldn’t hold him entirely responsible. After all, she was the one who had kissed him. Everyone
was entitled to one mistake. But if you did the same thing again, it was cause for induction into the moron hall of fame. That was a place she had no intention of going. Steve would never have one single inkling that she had any feelings for him other than gratitude and friendship.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She pulled out the directory and opened it to the page for cab companies. “My name will be mud if I don’t bring back something for my mother.”
Before she could look through the Yellow Pages, he shut it. “I’ll drive you into town.”
“That’s not necessary. Keep enjoying that book. I’m capable of getting to and from town on my own.”
“You can bring Mrs. M. a souvenir, but if I don’t bring her you, my name will be worse than mud.”
Before any warm fuzzy had a chance to form over his protective instinct, she reminded herself that he was nothing more than her bodyguard. Warmth of the unfuzzy, very sexy kind flashed through her as she remembered him touching her body in ways that had nothing to do with guarding. Her cheeks burned at the thought. The best method she’d found to combat his appeal was anger, but it was hard to stay mad when he was so sweet. Until they could discreetly disentangle themselves from this situation, she would have to do something to get over her weakness for him. Somehow she would have to get the message to her heart that Steve never had and never would care about her the way she wanted.
She opened her mouth to say something and he touched her lips with his finger. “Look, Ro, we can stand here and argue about this if you want. But time’s awastin’. Here’s the bottom line: you’ll never get past me. I’m bigger, stronger, tougher, and you are not taking a cab or driving slippery roads by yourself. Period.”
He was being sweet again. Rosie suppressed the painful direction that thought would lead her and forced a smile. “All right, lackey. You can come.”
He grinned and she turned away before that charmingly boyish look could do her too much damage.
A short time later they strolled down the village’s snow-lined street dotted with shops displaying engagingly
A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing Page 6