And who could really blame her? Other than the fact that he was thirty years old and had no clue what he was going to do with the rest of his life, he was perfect. And hell, she hadn’t really embarked on realizing her own dreams until she was five years past that mark herself. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already made quite a success out of himself. She just wished…
Well, she wished for things she couldn’t have, is what she wished for. That he’d miraculously decide to go from the glitz and glamour of a high-rolling lifestyle in Vegas to wanting to live in a rural mountain village in Vermont. With her.
Yeah. That was going to happen.
As she reminded herself. Far too many times. Every day. Hourly at times.
She clicked the reservation screen up on her computer again and looked, once more, at the fully booked schedule she had coming up. In two days, they’d start coming in, and by the weekend, when the event started, she’d be fully packed. And finally, mercifully, she’d be too busy to think about pretty much anything other than keeping her guests happy.
And that would make her happy. Lonely, perhaps. But happy.
Dammit.
Which was the other thing. She’d been perfectly content since coming east, to forge her own path, make her own choices, rule her own roost. Alone. It had been both a relief and a triumph. She knew she’d forge new relationships as time passed, both with the locals and in her private life as well. She hadn’t come here determined to be a social shut-in or anything. Far from it. She just hadn’t really seen herself falling into another long-term, serious relationship. Yet. Or maybe even ever.
She’d more or less left that part up to fate. So it seemed kind of unfair, she thought, being as she’d been so open-minded and honest and decent about the whole thing, for fate to go and hand her the perfect man on a platter…only, too bad, you can’t keep him. You can only lust and need and taste and remember what it was like to want that in your life on a regular basis.
Damn damn dammit.
She sighed and clicked off the screen, then groaned as she turned to look at the clock only to feel how stiff her neck had gotten. She’d been hunched over this desk for what felt like days. She shoved her chair back and stood, rubbing her lower back and rotating her shoulders and neck a few times.
Time for a shower and then a hunt through the kitchen to see what she felt like dredging up for dinner. Her thoughts got sort of tangled up on that shower part as she walked out of the office, memories of the very wonderful one she’d shared with Brett—had it been yesterday? Seemed like forever ago now—swimming through her mind. He was attentive, and he made her laugh. And moan. A lot of moaning, really. She sighed and detoured the other direction, toward the kitchen. She was in no mood to stand in the shower and feel sorry for herself. She was just pathetic enough at the moment to indulge in a good, long, pity sob, and there was simply no excuse for it.
Her inn was going to be full, the air had a distinct touch of chill to it of late. At night, anyway. If her luck really was turning, then possibly by the time the event was over and all the attendant hoopla had ended along with it, there might be snow on the ground. Or, at least enough of a nip in the air during the daylight hours for the resort to finally put their bazillion-dollar snow-making system to work covering the newly designed slopes.
“Think positive,” she murmured under her breath. “Optimistic thoughts only.” Straightening her shoulders and resolutely not thinking about showers, muscled chests, or big, strong hands slipping and sliding all over her steam-slicked skin, she marched into the kitchen…and went straight to the wine rack. So she needed a little assistance with the resolutely not thinking part. “Sue me,” she muttered.
After pouring a half a glass, she savored a few sips while looking out the rear kitchen window. Her gaze strayed to the big oak. Hard to believe it had only been a few weeks since she’d chased after that damn kitten. It seemed almost forever ago now. So much had happened since then. Her quiet little life here was anything but anymore.
Her lips curved in a slow smile. In fact, if her entire body could curl into a big smile, it would have. Sure, she was tired, but it was the good kind of tired that came from the hard work she’d been waiting for months to put in every day. After almost a year spent in the hard physical labor of getting the place into shape and ready to open, it had been difficult bordering on insanity-making to find herself sitting around…waiting for guests, for snow, for…something, anything, to happen. With no funds to continue crossing off anything else on her to-do restoration list, she’d been forced to putter. She was not a good putterer. She was a doer, not a sitter.
And then she’d climbed a tree, almost died; Brett had saved her and shown her a slice of heaven. Nothing had been the same since.
She sighed again, savored another slow sip…but the smile wouldn’t go away. She was happy. As long as she lived in the moment, where there was no room at her inn, and Brett was still in residence, officially anyway, then life was good. Pretty damn good.
She sipped some more…and thought there was something to be said for living in the moment. Enjoying the good parts while they were happening. Not wasting them thinking about the less than good parts that were just out there on the horizon, headed her way. Yep, as long as she was standing here, sipping wine, and happy and content with her world, it didn’t matter what the next day was going to bring.
“Looks like I didn’t need to stop and get this on my way in.”
She startled at the sound of his voice, almost sloshed the rest of her wine on her shirt. And didn’t care in the least. Because she was happy. And living in the moment. And that moment had just grown exponentially even better. Way, way better.
She spun around, knowing she should be smart, play it cool, casual, like a woman who enjoyed his company when he was around, but didn’t think about him incessantly when he wasn’t.
Fat chance. If she’d been happy a moment ago, she was blissful now. So she lived in that moment, too.
“There can never be enough wine,” she said, crossing the kitchen toward him.
His leather jacket hung open to reveal a rumpled T-shirt and well-worn jeans. No leather, butt-framing chaps today. A pity. There was stubble on his cheeks and a decided case of helmet hair going on with his increasingly shaggy locks. She kind of liked him all stubbly and shaggy and rumpled. Made her want to get him into the shower. Or into bed. Or, well, the kitchen table was looking pretty damn good.
Feeling far too giddy and frisky, she set her wineglass down. Half a glass was apparently her limit.
“What else have you got there?” She tipped up on her toes and tried to peek inside the Food Mart paper bag, but he sat it on the counter and spun her into his arms instead.
“Stuff to make chicken Marsala. We’re having company.”
“Company? We?”
“Don’t worry, I’m doing the cooking.”
“Was that a less than subtle dig at my mad kitchen skills? Because I do have cans of cream of mushroom soup in the pantry, buster, and I’m not afraid to use them.”
He laughed and tugged her up so her face was closer to his. “I miss you,” he said, rubbed her nose with his, then claimed her mouth in a kiss so hot she was pretty sure her pink toenail polish got a little scorched.
It only took half a second to return the kiss with equal enthusiasm.
Words were beyond her when he finally lifted his head. She looked into his twinkling green eyes, and all she could think was, I’m going to miss you, too. Something fierce. She shoved that thought right out of her head. This was her moment—their moment—dammit, and she was going to live it to its fullest. This was no time to contemplate the less than rosy future they weren’t going to be sharing. Besides, apparently there was a dinner to prepare. And company coming.
But before she could ask him what the plan was, he said, “Sorry I was AWOL all day.”
“I just figured you got caught up in more planning meetings.”
“I snuck out early,”
he said, “with every intention of coming back here and stealing you away for a few hours.”
“What happened? Would it be something to do with the company we’re having for dinner?”
“No, actually, that part came later. I…I was heading back here, but ended up taking a random turn off the main road and climbing into the hills for a little impromptu ride.”
She could hardly be miffed that he hadn’t asked her along. He was well aware of her comfort level regarding riding shotgun on his motorcycle. But still…“How was it?”
Surprisingly, his eyes lit up with some kind of…well, inner joy was the description that came to mind.
“That good, huh?” she said, unable to keep from smiling right back.
“Better.”
“Well, the mountains are a pretty spectacular backdrop, though even better in the spring when things get green again.”
“It was a gorgeous drive, but that’s not what made it better.”
She cocked her head. “So…’splain it to me already.”
He scooped her up against his chest, wrapping his arms around her to keep her feet dangling a foot off the ground. He spun them both around, making her squeal, and him laugh. Then he parked her backside on the counter and slid her hands around his neck as he moved between her thighs.
He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her hips. “We need to talk.”
Surprised by the unusually ominous statement, her fingertips, which had been toying with the shaggy hair at the nape of his neck, stilled. “About?”
“So many things.” He tipped his head back as if trying to corral all of his thoughts, and when he looked at her again, his expression was serious…but that banked excitement was still alive in his eyes. It couldn’t be horrible if he was excited about it, could it? Unless he was excited about some opportunity to go back and play poker in Vegas again.
She tensed, despite trying to remain casual. She’d known, after all, that this part was coming. She’d just thought she had a little more time, that was all. But if he was already thinking about the next thing on the horizon, she could hardly blame him for being excited about it. She might wish he shared that enthusiasm with someone else. Anyone else, quite frankly. But given all he’d done for her, she could hardly refuse to be there for him when he so obviously wanted to share his big news.
That also explained the long, spontaneous bike ride. He probably needed to figure out how he was going to break his news to her.
“And?”
He leaned in and kissed the side of her temple. Then he kept his face next to hers, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. “And my very oldest and closest friend, Dan, flew in and surprised me this afternoon. So I invited him over to dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She thought she might scream from the tension building inside of her. Did he not have any clue how badly he was torturing her at that moment? “Is that what it was you wanted to tell me? Something about Dan?”
“I want you to meet him, but no, there’s other stuff I want to talk about. I had thought a bottle of wine, some Marsala, some conversation. But then Dan was there, so now…”
“Dinner, and company.”
“Right.”
“Are you going back to the hotel with him afterward?”
He shook his head. “I was planning to stay here.”
She didn’t even try to ignore the hot little thrill that sent shivers down her spine. “Should I get another room ready for your friend?”
“I gave him my suite. He’ll enjoy it.” He lifted his hands to her face, pushed her hair back, and then framed her cheeks with his palms. “Not that I was trying to keep a paying guest from being under your roof…but I kind of selfishly wanted you all to myself for tonight.”
“As it happens, I’m feeling a bit selfish myself.” She smiled as he leaned in to kiss her again; then she swatted him across the chest as soon as he straightened.
“What was that for?”
“Taunting me with this big talk you want to have, then telling me I have to wait. Like my patience hasn’t been tested enough over the past two weeks.” As soon as that last part left her mouth she could have kicked herself. There was living in the moment, and there was being clingy and needy. And she was both, no doubt about it, but no need to broadcast it.
But then his eyes lit with that mischievous twinkle and she found she didn’t mind so much when he tugged her hips forward so he could snug himself more tightly between her thighs. “How impatient are you feeling, say, right about now?”
What the hell, she thought. And she grinned right back at him. “How long does it take to make chicken Marsala again?”
“You know, Dan is a bachelor…I’m thinking cream of mushroom soup chicken could be just as popular a menu item this evening.”
“Do you?”
He scooped her up off the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Indeed, I do.”
He didn’t ask his bedroom or hers…but took her up the backstairs to his bed. For which she was privately grateful. Not only because it took her farther away from the phone and her office, but she kind of liked being in his space, in his bed. So to speak.
He followed her down onto the bed, onto her, and she reveled in his weight on top of her. There was that thrill of all their body parts lining up so deliciously right, but even more, there was just a sense of…reassurance? Comfort? It was more complicated than that, but also as simple as that. She’d missed him, too. But rather than say it, she tugged his head down to hers and showed him.
He had his hands buried in her hair a moment later, returning her kiss with every bit the same intensity and enthusiasm. Oh, the wonders of being wanted like he wanted her. She didn’t think she’d ever get to a point where his attention didn’t move her like that. So focused…and so fun.
He was smiling as he lifted his head, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What?” she queried when he simply continued to stare into her eyes.
“I used to think I was one very lucky son of a bitch. And I was. For a very long time.”
“I think that’s great. That kind of success has to feel incredibly rewarding.”
“It does. Or did. But you know what?”
She shook her head but found herself too busy tracing the laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth with her fingertip to respond verbally. It was far too easy to get caught up in him. And she was so very, very caught.
He traced his own fingertips down the side of her face, and his expression took on a whole new light she’d never seen before. Her fingers paused as she got caught up in looking back.
“What?” she finally said, the word barely more than a whisper.
“My ridiculous good luck is holding,” he said, caressing her bottom lip with one fingertip, then replacing it with his own lips. Only this time the kiss was slower, softer, deeper. Almost…reverent. He took his time, claiming her in a way…well, that felt like it was all about being claimed.
“Brett,” she said as his lips left hers, slowly, so they continued to touch, even as their breaths comingled.
“I am the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet,” he said, sounding almost a little stunned. Then he took her mouth again, only this time there was heat, and passion, and absolute intent.
And if she’d felt soulfully claimed a moment ago…she was feeling absolutely primally claimed now. She didn’t know what it meant, or what he was thinking. Did he mean the great sex? It was pretty damn incredible. Or was there some deeper meaning. It felt a lot…deeper.
But that was as analytical as her poor, hormone-besieged brain could be. The rest of her was far too intent on doing some claiming of its own to be worrying about things like motivation and meaning.
The only thing she was motivated to do in that moment was to get them both out of their clothes and get him as deep inside of her as possible. He was like some kind of narcotic. Every time she got a
little, she wanted more. And it took more to get her that fix she needed, craved. He was insatiable with her, which was heady, heady stuff…and she was equally voracious in return.
Clothes were peeled off, pillows shoved aside as he pushed her farther across the bed and moved between her legs. There was no talking, no laughter. This was hot, hard, so fierce she thought she might pass out from the intensity of it. And then he was burying himself hard inside of her and her guttural growl of satisfaction vibrated against the slick skin on the side of his neck, where she was nibbling, biting, licking.
He pinned her hands down beside her head and moved faster. She dug the heels of her feet into the backs of his thighs, urging him on, rising to meet him, reveling in the hoarse groans coming from somewhere deep inside his chest, matching him grunt for grunt with her own half wild growls.
Their bodies pistoned, her hips thrusting up, his pinning her back down, until the sweat and internal combustion made their bodies so slick it was hard for her to keep any grip on him at all. He solved that by gripping her thighs and pushing her up the bed.
“Hold on,” he commanded, jerking his chin at her hands, now clutching at the sheets beside her head.
She reached blindly up until she found the headboard and grabbed on to the heavy rolled edge now above her head.
He held on to her thighs and lifted her higher, farther onto him, as he continued to take her. And she continued to take him in.
They were both half grunting, half shouting, as she felt him gather inside her, building…which took her screaming right over the edge. He was swearing, loud and long, as he climaxed right as the shock waves were still spasmodically jerking her body beneath his.
The force of it was so strong, so intense, they continued pumping even as they both shook with exhaustion, until finally he braced his weight over her on his elbows, sweat dripping from his brow onto the base of her throat, as he slid from her, emitting another deep groan of satisfaction as he did, making her quiver involuntarily…then sliding down her body so he could press a reverent kiss directly over her heart.
Here Comes Trouble Page 23