Sweet Escapes: Romance Story Boxed Set

by Leighann Dobbs

  He leaned in before she could tell him goodnight, and the feel of his lips brushing softly against hers was such a shock, Abby forgot how to properly react.

  He pulled away slightly, letting his fingers brush slowly along her cheek, around the curve of her jaw and down to her chin.

  His gaze burned, and then shuttered.

  Confused by the sudden all-male interest in his eyes, Abby forgot she was supposed to be going inside.

  “Goodnight, Abby,” he said finally and walked away, leaving her there in front of her door, wanting more but hesitant to call him back.

  Abby stood there for a long moment, surprise at his unexpected kiss keeping her rooted to the spot. She shook her head to clear her confusion.

  The sound of the engine starting up jolted her from her thoughts and she hurriedly dug inside her purse for the key to her apartment, jammed it into the lock, and let herself inside.

  Ian McQuinlan had kissed her goodnight.

  The realization struck her like a ton of bricks. Oh, God. Her archaeology professor, the same professor she'd been crushing on since Fall had kissed her. A real kiss. A man-woman kiss. Her fingers came up to her lips in wonder. What did it mean?

  She was still turning the question over in her mind when her head hit the pillow hours later.

  * * *

  The hotel conference room where their classroom lectures would be held for the duration of their visit here in Luxor was big and open and there was windows and carpet and a table. Big table.

  Abby slid into a chair, her knees still a bit shaky. She never imagined that she would have such a great opportunity when she enrolled in the Archeology program at Bellworth University. But here she was, in Egypt, on a school sponsored archeological dig. It was a dream come true and had cost her almost all of the small sum her mother had left her.

  She had breathed a silent prayer of thanks that she'd made it to Egypt alive as soon as her plane touched down, and she was thinking nearly the exact same thing when Professors McQuinlan, Donovan, and Warren made their way to the front of the conference room a few minutes later.

  Seated at her immediate left, Laurie nudged her. “Are you feeling okay, Abby? You look … pale.”

  “Nerves,” Abby whispered back. “Never been on a plane before. Quite frankly I am astounded to have made it across alive.”

  Laurie laughed. “Your first time on a plane?”

  At Abby's nod, she promised, “You'll get used to it.”

  Abby reserved agreement. If her shaky limbs and knotted stomach were any indication of her getting used to it, air travel would not be her favored mode of transportation for a very long time.

  Professor McQuinlan stepped up to the podium at the front of the room and Abby promptly forgot her anxieties about the flight.

  “Good afternoon, students. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Professor McQuinlan, from Bellworth University and these are my colleagues, Professor James Donovan and Professor Stella Warren …”

  With every word after his introduction, his voice seemed to fade – or maybe it was simply her attention wandering? Abby watched his lips move, remembering the feel of them fleetingly pressed against her own.

  Her thoughts on anything but archaeology, her gaze sought his, searching for even a hint of acknowledgment, of remembered attraction, but found none. She noted the sharp, angular plane of his jaw and wondered how it would feel beneath her fingertips.

  Eric must have noticed her wandering gaze because he kicked covertly at the legs of her chair, bringing her attention back to the room at large. He nodded toward the woman at the front of the class, then wiggled his eyebrows comically.

  Abby quickly took in the woman's physiology, her smart outfit, and bit back a laugh, knowing Eric had probably noticed very little beyond the professor's breasts.

  She shook her head, and told herself to pay attention when Professor Warren took Ian's place at the podium and started speaking.

  It didn't last long.

  Her gaze kept wandering to Ian, who was exchanging quiet words with Professor Donovan.

  Despite her inattention, the lecture was soon over, and Abby gathered her meager notes, glancing surreptitiously at Professor Warren from beneath the cover of her bangs.

  Her nose crinkled with distaste at the way the older, obviously more experienced woman clung to Ian while he looked over the papers Professor Donovan had handed him before leaving the conference room.

  Ian didn't appear to be adverse to her advances either, Abby concluded sullenly. In fact, the two of them looked downright cozy together.

  Her ease and familiarity with him made it glaringly apparent to Abby that he and Stella must have been in some form of a relationship once, which meant the two of them had a past. An intimate one, she guessed.

  The thought made her feel a bit silly for her preoccupation with Ian. Obviously, the kiss he'd shared with her before their trip meant nothing to him, and so should mean doubly nothing for her.

  He was her teacher, for heaven's sake, and she his student. She was here to learn, she reminded herself. Not fawn over Ian like some lovesick schoolgirl.

  Chapter 3

  Their first morning on-site, Ian watched Abby make her way around the excavation. For long moments, she would simply stop what she was doing, study the area pensively, and then start writing.

  Curious, he joined her on the opposite side of the shallow pit.

  “Fascinating, isn't it?” he asked, inclining his head toward the three-meter area where the other students were immersed in their work, wielding hand trowels and brushes to carefully unearth bits of history which had lain quietly beneath the sand for ages.

  She glanced up from her notes. “It is … ”

  “But?” He urged her to continue.

  She scribbled a last point in her notebook, closed it, and shook her head. “Can you imagine what their life must have been like?”

  Gesturing toward the area the University of Bellworth's archaeology department had been given special permission to excavate, then to the recovered bits of life lived by an ancient civilization seemingly so unlike today, she said, “Truthfully, that is all we can do. Imagine. We make educated guesses by studying artifacts and their positions in relation to each other, but we can never truly know how they really lived.”

  Ian watched her eyes as she spoke, finding himself more fascinated by her reaction to life here and now than any 'educated guesses' he might make about the people who'd lived here in a time long past.

  “A mystery waiting to be solved,” he agreed. But he wasn't talking about the dig. His gaze darted to her lips, pale and peach-colored, and he remembered the feel of them beneath his own.

  Soft and pliant.

  Warm and … he thought he'd much rather be exploring them and various other places on her body than standing here in the baking sun, digging in the sand.

  Abby moved to the work tent where row after row of satellite pictures lay arranged in their protective sleeves. “Yes, a mystery – one filled with red herrings and still missing the one essential ingredient needed for a satisfying ending.”

  “Ian, can you help?” Professor Warren called from the pit. “There's something here and I can't seem to dislodge it.”

  Ian glanced at Stella and the others working below him, a bit surprised to realize his passion for unearthing the secrets of ancient history had paled in comparison with this new-found desire to explore Abby Shaw.

  “Your greater, manly strength is needed,” Stella teased.

  Seeing no evidence Abby even remembered their kiss, Ian chided himself for dwelling on it. Still, he wondered whether she would be up to repeating the experience, only this time would be a lot less sweet and contain a great deal more fire.

  “I'll be right there.”

  Stella watched him descend the ladder, her gaze noting how his muscles bunched and gave beneath the cotton of his loose fitting shirt. A spark of remembered passion took her thoughts back to a time when Ian had cared.
>
  Had it really been so long ago?

  Now, however, he wasn't interested – at least not in her.

  She had seen him talking to the girl with ashe blond hair more than a few times since their arrival, saw the way his eyes followed her everywhere, and felt a quick stab of regret.

  Her gaze slid back to the girl, and her eyes narrowed while Ian knelt beside her on the sandy floor and took the trowel from her hand. “Careful, Stella. You have to loosen it more before attempting to pry it free. Otherwise it will break, and be of no use.”

  She smiled and swatted playfully at his shoulder, then let her hand linger for a moment against his hard bicep. “We could always patch it up, Ian. Not everything that breaks has to remain broken.”

  He ignored the hint in her words, just as she had suspected he would, the same as he had done since their breakup over a year ago. She saw his glance stray back to the girl, and thought something had to be done about his unprofessional fascination with his student.

  Her smile became a smirk, a plan already forming in her mind.

  * * *

  Abby hurried ahead of her classmates to the excavation.

  Over the past few days she'd noticed Ian had a habit of working without his shirt when he thought none of them were around, and her fascination with the play of hard muscle under sun-darkened skin fueled her steps this morning.

  Reaching the work tent, she slowed her pace, not wanting to alert him to their arrival because as soon as he realized they were there, he would don his shirt and go back to work, depriving her of the view.

  Preoccupied with her obsession for watching Ian in various states of undress, she failed to notice Professor Warren ahead of her. She stopped an instant before collision.

  “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, her focus still mostly on Ian, shirtless and completely oblivious to his audience of admirers. Briefly, she noticed Stella had twisted her sable hair into an intricate knot at her nape and was fanning her face with her hand though the action was wholly ineffective against the heat.

  “Miss Shaw,” Stella acknowledged in greeting. “It is unbelievably hot today, isn't it?”

  Abby's gaze still on Ian, she mumbled in agreement. Definitely hot, she thought. But her thoughts had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with Ian's bare back. He stopped shoveling, almost as if he had felt her hungry gaze upon him, and looked in her direction.

  A slash of a smile, a wave, and then he noticed Stella approaching.

  He reached for his shirt, and Abby sighed. So much for her plan to observe him quietly while he worked.

  Professor Warren had headed off for the shallow end of the pit where Ian worked with a shovel to loosen the sand and stone, and Abby wished – quite unkindly – the woman would trip and fall into the pit, or down some unknown rabbit hole. Where she disappeared didn't matter quite as much as far as Abby was concerned, so long as she did disappear.

  Abby snorted, whether at the compete absurdity of her thoughts or her irritation with the professor, she didn't know.

  Turning away, she headed for the work tent to study the aerial photos again.

  Casting one last, longing glance in Ian's direction, she saw Stella touch him again, as she often did, and a pang of jealousy rose up inside.

  Forget him, Abby, she told herself.

  Forget the kiss.

  Forget Ian McQuinlan.

  He obviously wasn't interested in her. Why should he be? She was his student, after all. And everyone knew professors didn't dally with their students.

  Chapter 4

  The view across the Nile at night was breathtaking.

  The air was cold. Wrapping her hands tightly about her steaming coffee mug to absorb the warmth it radiated, Abby leaned against the railing, looking up at the stars, and her thoughts drifted for a time.

  Despite her warm sweater, jeans, and a thick jacket, the cold found its way into her awareness, and she shivered. It seemed the temperature had dropped ten degrees between the time she'd gotten out here and now.

  She turned to go inside where it was infinitely warmer and spotted Ian walking toward her.

  Dressed in jeans and a pullover sweatshirt with the words “I'm Diggin' It” emblazoned across the front, he seemed much less stuffy than he did in the sweaters and khaki's he wore in the classroom. He didn't appear to be affected by the cold Egyptian nights either, she noticed.

  "Couldn't sleep?" Ian asked, joining her at the railing.

  Abby shook her head and turned away to gaze over the Nile once more. Shadowy sails from the many boats bobbing on its surface rose up from the water like ghosts in the night, much like the thoughts haunting her from a few moments ago. “My mom would have loved this place.”

  “You miss her a lot, don't you?”

  “I do. She was an amazing person.”

  He propped against the railing, tucking his hands into his pockets as he did so, a frequent habit of his. “She's the reason you left University, right?”

  Abby nodded. “There was no one else to care for her. Ava had little Neil and Jenna to tend to, and work...”

  Lost in memories, her voice trailed off.

  “Not that I minded,” she said after quiet moment. “Mom worked so hard to give me the opportunity to do what I wanted in life. Being there with her when she needed me was the least I could do.”

  She shivered again, and Ian moved to stand close behind her. His nearness sent her chill skittering away. He put his hands on her shoulders, ran them up and down her arms and the friction, coupled with the warmth of his body at her back heated her.

  “Better?"

  Abby angled her head around, the words “Yes, thank you,” on her tongue … but she never got the chance to say them.

  His lips met hers, and all thoughts of cold fled immediately, leaving her senses filled with nothing but Ian. The warm, freshly-showered scent of him, the feel of his body pressed hard against hers, and the texture of his hair where her fingers had become entwined.

  How long had it been since someone had held her this close? Touched her? Kissed her? It didn't matter, Abby thought, as long as this embrace, this kiss, didn't stop.

  The feel of his hands on her body sent tiny frissons of pleasure shooting through her, and she hoped he didn't realize just how inexperienced she was at this sort of play. Mirroring his touches, his movements, she pressed closer to him, returned his kisses with fervor, his caresses with hesitant, yet bold touches of her own.

  Unlike the first time he'd kissed her, there was nothing chaste about the way his lips played over hers tonight and her body's response was like kindling igniting into flame.

  * * *

  Ian turned her in his arms, his fingers plunging into the silky fall of silvery blond hair at her nape and temple. His thumb caressed the soft curve of her jaw then slid across her bottom lip before covering her mouth with his own.

  She tasted of cinnamon and sweet coffee.

  He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

  One of her hands tangled in his hair, the other swept down his back, then around his side, holding him.

  Ian thought he would very much like to take her upstairs to his room, strip the dark sweater and jeans from her body, and see if she tasted as sweet everywhere else.

  Images of her naked and in his bed forced a groan from deep in his throat. His mouth left hers, trailing hungry kisses down the slender column of her neck while his hands slid beneath her sweater. The feel of her silken skin beneath his hands was torture.

  He urged her closer, and she pressed against him, a feminine mewl of pleasure escaping her lips. His palm slid down to cup her bottom, pressing her against his erection. He wanted her to feel what she did to him, how he ached to have her.

  “Abby ...”

  The click of heels across the stone patio alerted Ian to her presence a bare instant before her voice broke through the haze of passion engulfing him.

  “Well, well, well. What do you suppose the Bellworth University board woul
d make of this amusing little scene?”

  Chapter 5

  Ian froze, tightening his arms around Abby. “Why would they have reason to know, Stella?”

  “Oh, I don't know. Maybe their professor fraternizing with the female students is something they would frown upon.”

  “You wouldn't dare,” Abby interjected, her face drawn with fury.

  Stella lifted a perfectly shaped brow. “Oh? Why should I not? This isn't a fantasy, Miss Shaw. I'm sure you were thinking it a perfect fairy tale, sharing a forbidden kiss under the stars in an exotic land. But you seem to forget this is reality, not some made up land created for your enjoyment. There are rules here and consequences if you break them.”

  She flashed a smile. “I'm sure you understand, my dear.”

  A flash of hurt and angry tears filled Abby's eyes a moment before she jerked free of Ian's embrace and fled inside, hands balled into tight fists at her side, her stride quick and long.

  “Abby!” Ian called and started after her, but Stella's tight grip on his forearm halted him. He snatched his arm free and glared at the dark haired woman before him. “What is your problem, Stella? You had no reason to talk to Abby like that!”

  “Oh, so it's Abby is it?” Stella sneered. “Shouldn't you be calling her Miss Shaw?”

  A little laugh trilled from her lips. “My, my. The level of familiarity between the two of you is astounding.”

  “What do you want, Stella?”

  Her brows lifted in mock surprise, her lips forming a little 'o'. “Who said I wanted anything, Ian? I'm simply providing an example for others to follow.”

  “You're being a bitch, and you know it. Neither Abby, nor myself deserve--”

  “She was taking you away from me!” Stella snapped, her expression angry.

  Ian sighed harshly and shoved his hands through his hair.

  “You never had me!” he snapped back. “What was once between us was long ago, Stella. It's done. It's been done.”

  He held her gaze for one more bitter second before delivering the final blow. “And I never go back for seconds.”