Holiday Hideout

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  As she checked the front-door lock and switched off all the lights, she figured it out. They’d had fantastic sex, but it had essentially been mindless, at least on her part. His eagerness hadn’t left her any time to think.

  He still seemed eager, but not quite so impulsive. It was almost as if he wanted to give her time to think…to feel.

  Or not. She blew out a breath, impatient with herself for trying to read meaning into everything. He was probably just tired. She walked into the bedroom and discovered he’d turned down the covers and switched on a bedside lamp.

  Coming toward her, he slid the bathrobe from her shoulders. “Thanks for asking me to stay.”

  “Thanks for staying.” She was warmed by the heat in his eyes.

  “I love looking at you.” He stepped back, his gaze traveling slowly downward and stopping at her feet, still encased in sock-monkey slippers. “Want to keep those on?”

  “Please don’t tell me you have a slipper fetish.”

  “Nope. Just don’t want your feet to get cold.”

  She sat on the bed and nudged them off. “Guess you’ll just have to keep my feet warm.” Then she remembered. She’d put that on her list of things she didn’t need a man to provide. She shook off the thought. Asking a man to keep her feet warm for one night wasn’t the same as needing him to do it on a regular basis.

  “I promise to keep them toasty.” He began stripping off his clothes.

  Stretching out on the cool sheet, she pulled the blankets around her and propped her head on her hand so she could watch the unveiling of Mac McFarland. From his broad shoulders to his muscled chest, from his six-pack to his erect penis, he was one fine specimen. Her body hummed in readiness, her urgency increasing with every second.

  His breathing grew rougher as he took a condom packet from the box and had to work hard to tear it open. “Damn things.”

  “Lovely things.” A delicious shiver of anticipation ran through her. “We’d be severely restricted without them.”

  He finally opened the packet and rolled on the condom. “That’s true.” He drew back the covers and slid in beside her. “I just get impatient.” Capturing her mouth in a deep kiss, he rolled her under him and in one smooth motion buried his cock to the hilt.

  Her heart hammered as she absorbed the sensation of being locked so tightly together she couldn’t tell where she left off and he began. They fit perfectly, her body molding to his as if they were meant to join this way. She’d never felt so connected to a man before.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids and the tip of her nose. “This is heaven.”

  “Mmm.” She cupped his face and pulled him back to her lips, wanting another sinfully deep kiss with lots of tongue.

  But instead of the wild and lusty kiss she’d expected, his mouth gentled over hers. He kissed her tenderly, as if cherishing this bond between them. When he initiated a slow, steady rhythm, her response was instinctive. She lifted into his kiss and opened like a flower beneath him. At the same moment, her womb relaxed, inviting him deeper.

  Responding to her total surrender, he groaned and rocked forward, as if he longed to touch her essence. Something was happening between them, something she hadn’t intended. The barriers were coming down.

  Angling his mouth over hers, molding the kiss until it became two halves of a whole, he began to pump into her in easy, measured strokes. Each time he drove home, the protective shell around her heart cracked a little more. She was defenseless against this tender wooing, helpless to guard her heart.

  The insistent, steady thrust, so different from the wild rides they’d enjoyed before, stirred her response as surely and effortlessly as the approaching tide. She didn’t strain toward her climax. It simply arrived in a surge of joy.

  As she arched upward, Mac lifted his head, gazed into her eyes and continued the easy motion of his hips. “Beth.”

  The force of her orgasm took her breath away.

  “Beth.” He said her name again as his eyes darkened. With a gasp, he shoved deep one last time, his body quivering, his cock pulsing within her.

  She had never felt so close to a man in her life, yet she’d known him only a matter of hours. The depth of her feelings made no logical sense, but she shouldn’t be trying to think in the afterglow of such a powerful climax.

  “Beth, I—”

  She laid her fingers over his mouth. “Let’s not spoil it.”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  But even though she’d stopped him from saying anything they might both regret, she couldn’t pretend that they’d been enjoying sex for its own sake.

  He’d made love to her.

  Exactly the thing she’d planned to avoid, and yet she still felt the warmth of it down to her toes.

  She wouldn’t try to sort it out tonight. Mac left the bed to take care of the condom, but when he returned, he curled his big body around hers and gathered her close. She snuggled against him and fell asleep.

  MAC WOKE UP FEELING GREAT. With Beth snuggled in his arms, all was right with his world. Weak light filtered through the wooden blinds, but she was still asleep, her bottom pressed against his morning wood. Sweet agony.

  He was so tempted to try to reach the condom box without waking her. He savored the possibility of making love when she was still drowsy and relaxed. But he would put that idea on hold.

  If he planned to spend the day with her—and he most certainly did—then he needed a shower, a shave and a toothbrush. Which meant going home again. He hadn’t thought of a razor and a toothbrush when he’d grabbed the condoms. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have brought them.

  The task of wooing Beth was delicate, and he had to take it one step at a time. Easing carefully out of bed, he picked up his clothes from the floor, walked out into the kitchen and closed the door gently behind him. He dressed quietly and listened for any sound to indicate she was waking up. All was silent.

  So far, so good. If his plan worked, it could turn out to be a nice surprise. He put on his boots and his coat and made sure his keys were in his pocket. A note might be a good idea, too.

  Glancing around the cabin still cloaked mostly in shadow, he spied her yellow legal pad. Bingo. Walking to the end table, he picked it up, along with the pen she’d been using.

  He glanced over the list she’d been making of all the reasons she loved living alone. It was a long list, but it demonstrated her self-sufficiency. He prized that quality and considered it the basis of a healthy relationship.

  Flipping the top page over, he wrote “BE BACK SOON” on the second page and put the legal pad next to the Sorry! box. He listened again, and when he didn’t hear her stirring, he unlocked the front door. He closed it behind him and used his own key to relock the door once he was standing on the very cold porch.

  The snow had stopped falling during the night, and the pearl-colored sky was clear. Soon the sun would sparkle on the deep layer of snow surrounding the cabin.

  It surrounded his truck, too. He could dig it out, but that would take a while, and the road would be treacherous so he’d have to drive slowly. Walking through snow this deep would be even more tedious. Then he remembered the snowshoes hanging on the back porch.

  Not wanting to risk going through the house and waking Beth, he plowed his way through the snow and around the cabin. It was tough going, but once he reached the back porch and strapped the snowshoes on his feet, he was golden. He headed cross-country to his cabin.

  BETH HEARD SOME NOISE on the back porch and realized Mac wasn’t in bed with her anymore. Leaving the warm bed wasn’t easy, but she wanted to know what he was up to so early this morning. After putting on her bathrobe, she walked to the window that looked out on the back porch and parted the wooden blinds.

  She was just in time to see Mac snowshoeing his way across marshmallow-smooth snow, no doubt returning to his cabin. Shivering, she left the bedroom and spotted her yellow legal pad on the table, the first page turned over. So he’d l
eft a note. That was considerate of him.

  He probably had many reasons for going. He likely wanted a shower, a shave and a change of clothes. Spending the night hadn’t been a given, so he’d been unprepared, and he might not relish the idea of sharing her razor and toothbrush.

  Even so, she was disappointed. She’d hoped they might wake up together, snuggled in that warm bed. Starting the day by making love would have been nice, too.

  Who was she kidding? To be more precise, she hadn’t hoped that would happen. She’d expected it after the sweet way he’d treated her last night. Damn. Once again, she’d allowed her expectations to mess with her peace of mind.

  She flipped the first page back into place, and there was her list of things she loved about living alone. Sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, she propped her cheek against her hand and read through the list: control of remote, closet to myself, eat when I want, sleep when I want, bathroom to myself, decorate to my tastes, listen to music I like, enjoy silence.

  It certainly was silent right now. Was she enjoying the silence? No. She missed having Mac around.

  She looked over the list again, reminding herself of why she’d come here in the first place—to celebrate being single. Having Mac around wasn’t helping.

  Apparently she wasn’t good at this fling business, at least not yet, and especially not with a guy like Mac, who was so…appealing. She’d never been with a man who literally wiped all her priorities from her mind.

  It was easy to turn down a marriage proposal from a jerk who openly admitted he wanted to derail her dreams in favor of his. But Mac would never say something like that, would never consciously expect it, either. But in the end, would he unintentionally woo her away from her responsibilities, from the job she loved?

  After all, he had that whole superhero thing going on. Superheroes didn’t rescue self-sufficient people. They rescued the weak and needy. Without meaning to, Mac might tempt her into surrendering her personal freedom in exchange for his protection. And she refused to surrender.

  She groaned, dreading the pain that she knew was coming, for both of them. But for her own good and his, she had to send him away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHOWERED AND SHAVED, with supplies in his backpack, Mac strapped on the snowshoes and headed for the Vickers’ cabin. Sunshine had transformed the snow into a field of diamonds so bright he needed goggles, and overhead the sky was superhero blue. Mac could hardly wait to see Beth again. What a glorious Thanksgiving Day this was turning out to be.

  Smoke drifted from the cabin’s chimney and he took a deep breath of crisp air scented with wood smoke. So she was up. He hadn’t planned it this way, but by going home he’d allowed her to have the bathroom to herself. He knew from her list that she preferred that.

  He decided to leave the snowshoes on the front porch to use later on. He imagined snowshoeing with Beth while the Cornish game hens roasted, then returning to a warm fire and a celebratory meal. Or maybe they’d snowshoe this morning and make love while the hens roasted.

  Inserting his key in the lock, he realized it was already open. She must have done it, anticipating his return. Good sign. Inside, he was greeted by the scent of coffee and his heart warmed at the sight of Beth curled up on the couch sipping a cup in front of the fire.

  She’d put on a soft green sweat suit that perfectly matched her eyes, and unless he was mistaken, she’d washed and styled her hair. Another good sign.

  “Hi.” He smiled at her as he slipped the pack from his shoulders, mindful of the contents.

  “Hi.”

  His smile faded. She wasn’t smiling back. “I borrowed the snowshoes because my truck’s socked in.”

  “I know. I saw you leave.”

  Still no smile. “Are you upset because I left without saying goodbye?”

  “No.”

  He was having a hard time reading her expression, so he barreled on. “I wanted to let you sleep. I brought the eggs I had in my refrigerator, plus some bread for toast because I couldn’t remember if you had that, and—” he reached in the front pocket of the backpack “—a cookbook! I’m going to attempt to make omelets.” He waited, expecting her to laugh because they’d joked about it last night.

  Instead, she stood and put her coffee mug on the end table. “Mac, this isn’t working out.”

  He felt the words like a blow to the stomach and he sucked in a breath. Steady. Don’t panic. He did his best to sound calm. “Oh? What’s the problem?”

  She picked up the legal pad that she’d apparently brought over to the couch while he was gone. “I came here to celebrate being single.”

  “I know you did.” He’d realized on some level they’d have this conversation eventually. He just didn’t want to have it so soon. “And I think it’s a worthwhile idea. Nobody should assume they have to marry in order to be happy.”

  She nodded. “We agreed on that from the beginning. But the thing is—”

  “Listen, could we talk about this while I start cooking? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving to death.” He was, and he didn’t want to face this discussion on an empty stomach. That wasn’t his only reason for starting the omelets, though. He needed to break through this barrier she’d apparently put up while he was gone.

  She gazed at him as if trying to decide how to handle that suggestion. “Okay, I guess. I’m sure you are hungry after not getting much food last night and then snowshoeing between our two cabins.”

  “It’s beautiful out there, though.” He took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door before picking up the backpack and carrying it over to the kitchen. Setting it on a chair, he took out the carton of eggs and checked to make sure none of them had broken.

  “It looks pretty out the window.”

  “The snowshoes worked great. There’s another set hanging on the back-porch wall.” He laid the cookbook on the counter and thumbed through it until he found a recipe for omelets.

  “Mac, don’t be planning on any activities involving me, okay? That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  He glanced at her with a smile, as if she hadn’t just threatened to nuke his whole future, the one he’d been planning ever since last night. “Okay. I won’t. Do we have a small frying pan?”

  “I think so.” She gave him a puzzled look, as if she’d expected more of a reaction to her statement.

  But he wasn’t planning to react yet. In fact, he wanted to stall this discussion for as long as possible.

  After going through the cupboards, she came up with a small pan. “How about this?”

  “Perfect.” He continued to study the recipe. “Now I just need a bowl. I think we’d better make this simple and only add cheese. I know you have some of that.”

  She set a mixing bowl on the counter next to him, followed by a block of cheese she took out of the refrigerator. She considered the cheese. “I think it needs to be grated. That’s what they use at those omelet stations in restaurants.”

  “Good idea. That’ll be your job.” He cracked three eggs into the bowl, all the while trying not to worry about her change of attitude. The recipe said to use a whisk, but he grabbed a fork out of the silverware drawer and used that. “Making an omelet is probably just like making scrambled eggs, except you end up with something that looks like a flat rock instead of a handful of pebbles.”

  That produced the tiniest of smiles. Then she glanced away and took a deep breath. “Here’s the deal. I woke up this morning, and you were already on your way home.”

  “I probably made too much noise on the back porch. Sorry about that.”

  “I didn’t mind waking up. But suddenly I was alone.”

  “Oh.” He was beginning to think leaving had been a really bad idea. If he’d stayed, they wouldn’t have had eggs for breakfast, but whatever relationship glue had been working last night would have had time to set. He’d pulled away from her too soon. And now everything rested on omelets. He turned on the burner under the pan. “Do you hav
e any butter?”

  “Yes.” She opened the refrigerator, took out a wrapped stick of butter and handed it to him. “And I felt alone. That’s the problem.”

  “You missed me?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  He stood holding the butter and stared at her. He didn’t see that as unfortunate. In fact, he was overjoyed to hear it. “Is that so bad?”

  “Yes! I’m here to declare my independence from men, and in less than twelve hours, I miss you when you leave!”

  He put down the butter and turned off the stove. This was great news. Maybe the glue had set, after all. “You didn’t want to miss me, did you?”

  “No.” Her gaze was pleading. “But I did, and that means I have more work to do if I’m truly going to be happy with my single life. I need you to leave so I can do that work and get stronger, more self-reliant.”

  He tried not to show any anxiety over her plan to kick him out, but his heart was pounding. “Do you mind if we eat breakfast before I go?” He held his breath.

  She swallowed. “I suppose not. You went to all this trouble to bring eggs and a cookbook.” Then she sighed. “Only that’s part of the problem, too. You like coming to the rescue. That’s a very considerate trait, but I can’t allow a man to rescue me on a regular basis.”

  “I understand that.” He thought she was overreacting to what was only a nice gesture, but he didn’t want to fight with her. He switched on the burner again and put some butter in the pan. “If you wouldn’t mind locating the grater and grating up some cheese, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Oh. Right, that was my job. I’m a little distracted.” She opened drawers, found a grater and started energetically shredding cheese onto a plate.

  “I glanced at that list of yours.” The butter was sizzling, so he dumped the egg mixture in the pan. The cookbook was a little vague on technique, but this looked similar to the way omelet-station chefs operated.