“What?” She gulped for air.
“This is…intense.”
“I know.” And a moment ago she’d been all for intense. But what he was saying slowly penetrated the thick, swirling fog of lust that had blotted out rational thought.
“We need to slow down.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “You’re right.” Unwinding her legs from around his hips, she slid off the table as he stepped back and released her.
His chest heaved. “I didn’t expect—”
“Me, neither.”
“But—”
She found the courage to look at him. “We got carried away.”
He held her gaze. “You say that like getting carried away was a bad thing.”
“Not bad. It just…happened.”
He massaged the back of his neck and gave her a smile that was close to a grimace. “This is not how I pictured our first kiss ending.” He studied her for a moment. “What now?”
“I don’t know.” He was the one who’d pulled the plug, and she was grateful. In her current state, no telling how far she might have let things go. She still had the urge to haul him into her bedroom, but that wouldn’t be fair—to either of them.
His expression softened as he gazed at her. “It was a heck of a good kiss.”
Heat climbed into her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Yes, it was.” And she hoped they’d do it again sometime soon. When he’d thrust his tongue into her mouth—
“You need to stop looking at me like that.”
His gentle words pulled her out of her daze. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. But I only have so much willpower, and you’re temptation personified.”
She blinked. Temptation? Her? “Oh.” It was a hard concept to wrap her mind around. Mark had certainly never described her that way.
“And that’s why I should vamoose.” He glanced at the table. “But I can still help with the clean-up—”
“I’ll handle it.” She needed time to think, and working in the kitchen would be the perfect opportunity.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll be off.” He started toward the door.
“Wes?”
“Yes, ma’am?” He turned.
“Thank you. For the…kiss.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.” He walked out the front door, his retreating steps growing fainter, but there was no click of a closing door. She didn’t close hers, either.
Cleaning up the kitchen gave her something to keep her body moving while her mind worked on more important matters.
She’d come darned close to letting her craving for physical contact sweep away her common sense after only one kiss. Her emotions were volatile and the pleasure she’d enjoyed in Wes’s arms was a potentially dangerous catalyst.
So what was she going to do about it? Right now? Nothing. She needed time to process.
After the kitchen was shipshape, she tackled her usual Sunday chores. The familiar pattern soothed her, but it didn’t prevent her from listening for Wes’s footsteps.
She doubted he’d show up in her doorway—not after the noble way he’d handled their…encounter. But if he left the building, that would eliminate the temptation to walk down to his apartment and throw herself into his arms.
Temptation. That word held a whole new meaning for her now. She liked the glimpse of herself she’d gotten through his eyes. And her mini-obsession with Wes was perfectly natural after a kiss that still had the power to curl her toes. He’d given her time to think rationally about her situation, though, and she was determined to use it.
By bedtime she was calmer and more relaxed, although she still hadn’t reached any conclusions about her next steps. As she set her alarm for three, her phone pinged with a message. Sweet dreams, Ingrid.
She tingled from head to toe as she typed a reply. Same to you, Wes. She crawled into bed and turned out the light. It was a small thing, maybe, that he wanted to wish her goodnight. But it warmed her like a hug. He was steps away, right down the hall. And he was thinking about her. Smiling, she drifted off to sleep.
At three she woke to her alarm and hopped in the shower. As she dressed, her phone pinged.
Got called out. Mare in labor. Didn’t want you to worry.
She responded immediately. Thanks for letting me know. Poor guy wasn’t likely to get the sleep he needed anytime soon.
For the next couple of days, they kept in touch via short texts. It was their only contact other than a quick wave when he came in for coffee and a pastry each morning. Unfortunately, the timing was never right for her to wait on him.
Around eight each night, he wished her sweet dreams, always from the road. His clients were keeping him hopping, which was great for business but inconvenient timing. How could she expect to figure out what she wanted from him if she never saw him?
Beginning with their adventures on the Fourth of July, he’d delivered swaths of vivid color to her life. After Boston, she’d needed that. Mark had plunged her into a world of black and white. She hadn’t anticipated such an explosive attraction, but she’d deal with it, one way or another.
On Wednesday night, she kept her phone with her as she got ready for bed. No text. Strange, considering he’d established a pattern, but if he was in the middle of helping a client with an emergency, he wouldn’t take time to text her. She’d look for one early the next morning.
But when she woke up, there was no text waiting for her. His truck wasn’t in its space, either. By noon she’d begun to worry. She considered calling Roxanne to see if she’d heard anything, but she wasn’t sure what she’d say if Roxanne started asking questions.
The day dragged by, the minute hand barely moving on the clock in the bakery despite a steady flow of customers. Every time the door opened, she’d look up, hoping it would be Wes. It wasn’t.
She’d still heard nothing by her bedtime. No point in even bothering to lie down. She was too agitated to sleep. Instead, she left her door open, curled up on the couch, and listened for his boots on the stairs. It was almost nine when the slow, methodical sound told her he was home. And potentially exhausted, judging from his pace.
She was still dressed in the shorts and t-shirt she’d put on after work. Hurrying out the door barefoot, she met him as he topped the stairs.
His eyes widened. “Hey, Ingrid. I didn’t expect—”
“Are you okay?” Her heart thumped in her chest.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.” He rubbed his chin, where the shadow of a beard darkened his skin. “Sorry I didn’t text you.”
She brushed the comment aside. He looked like hell. “Have you eaten?”
“No, but I’ll…” He seemed to be searching for the words. “I’ll be fine.”
“I have leftovers. I’ll bring them down.”
“Hey, thanks, but it must be late. You should get some sleep.”
“Right now, you need food more than I need sleep. I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Turning, she ran down the hall to her apartment. He probably needed sleep, too, but she couldn’t help with that. What she could do was prepare a hearty pick-me-up meal and make sure he got some of it down before he collapsed.
Chapter Fourteen
Ingrid’s unexpected appearance at the top of the stairs had been Wes’s version of an oasis in the desert. And a warm meal would provide the comfort he craved.
By the time she stepped into his apartment, he’d ditched his hat and his filthy boots and was scrubbing up at the kitchen sink. His shirt was untucked and he’d rolled up his sleeves past his elbows.
If she hadn’t brought him food, he would have stripped down and climbed in the shower. Instead, he grabbed a kitchen towel to mop his face and dry his hands.
“I have a pot of chili, cornbread and a six-pack of the beer you like.”
“Sounds great.” He lowered the towel and gazed at her standing there with her golden hair loose around her shoulders and her arms full. �
�How do you know what beer I like?”
“It’s the kind you brought the other night.”
“Do you like it?”
“Not especially.”
“Then why—”
“I decided to stock some in, just in case.”
“Thank you.” There might be some subtext there but he wasn’t up to deciphering it. He flipped the towel onto his shoulder. “Let me help you with all that.”
She handed him the six-pack. “Maybe you should start with a beer while I warm up the chili and the cornbread.”
“I can warm it up. If you don’t mind leaving everything, you could go back to your apartment. It’s way past your bedtime and—”
“Wes.” She set down the food and propped her hands on her hips. “Please sit down and open a beer. I’ll warm your dinner and serve it to you. No offense, but you don’t look like you’re up to operating a stove right now.”
He sighed. “Excellent observation.” Pulling out a kitchen chair, he lowered himself into it. Then he twisted off the cap on the beer and took a slow sip. “Damn, that tastes good. Thank you, Ingrid.”
“You’re welcome.” She put the pot of chili on the stove to heat and turned on the oven before sticking the cornbread inside. “Judging from how red your eyes are, I’m going to guess I’ve had more sleep in the past twenty-four hours than you have.”
“That’s for sure.” Something in her comment filtered into his brain. “Hey, did I worry you? I meant to text you, but I didn’t anticipate…”
She turned toward him, her expression troubled, her voice subdued. “Did you lose a horse?”
“Almost.”
“Oh, Wes.”
He sucked in air and blew it out. The tension hadn’t dissipated, might not for a while. He took another sip of the beer. “My client called me out last night around seven. Colic.”
“Oh, dear.”
“At first it seemed manageable. We walked her around and she seemed to be doing better. We were in a watch-and-see situation. Monitored her during the night and everything looked good. Then about four in the morning, it all went south.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face as if to wipe away the memory of the woman’s panic when she realized her mare might die. Roxanne had looked like that the day they’d lost Scooter.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He glanced up at her. “I probably should. I had a vet tell me that locking it away inside is a sure way to burn out.” He hesitated. “On the other hand, I don’t have to dump the story on you. I can spill the beans to Dad or Pete next time I see one of them.”
Her gaze softened. “I’d prefer it if you told me.”
How could he refuse such a heartfelt request? “It was like going through the nightmare with Scooter all over again. At least this time the ending was different.”
“Was that because you’d been through it before?”
“Maybe.” He took another sip of his beer. “That’s something to hold onto. I might have recognized a tad earlier that we had to get that mare into surgery. Scooter died on the way to the clinic. The mare didn’t, but it was the longest sixty miles I’ve ever driven.”
“You drove?”
“Had to. That poor woman was in no condition to take the wheel. She spent most of the trip sobbing.”
“And neither of you had slept.”
“That’s right.”
“She didn’t have anybody else around to help with this? A husband? Siblings? One of her friends?”
“No. She’s elderly and her husband died last year. They don’t have kids. No relatives close by and she hasn’t lived in town long. This mare is her whole world.”
“And you saved her. Saved them both, really.”
“Yeah. We stayed until the mare was out of danger. Then I drove her home. She didn’t want me to leave.”
“Not surprising, after what you’d both been through.”
“She wanted to feed me, but I just…I had to get some distance.” His head felt like it was stuffed with wool that was crammed in so tight it put pressure behind his eyes. They kept watering. He took the towel off his shoulder and mopped his face again. “I’m really sorry I didn’t text you while that was going on, but—”
“I understand.” Her voice was a caress.
Glancing up, he met her gaze. He saw compassion in her blue eyes, but something else that made his heart rate pick up.
She turned back to the stove before he could figure out what it meant.
He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing the chili’s warmed up.”
“It is.” She twisted the knobs on the stove, shutting off the heat.
“If you want to head off to bed, I can take it from here.”
“I don’t think I can do that.” She faced him. “You’ve been through the wringer. More than anything, I think you need someone to hold you.”
His heart started pounding like crazy. “Ingrid, I’m—”
“Just let me hold you, Wes.”
His breath caught. Could he handle that? Even as exhausted as he was, he could be playing with fire if he allowed her that close. But yearning swamped him. He swallowed. “I’d like that.”
She smiled. “Then the chili can wait.” Walking toward him, she held out her hand.
His skin prickled and his ears buzzed. Taking her incredibly soft hand, he stood. Upright now. A little dizzy and disoriented, but upright.
She led him down the hall, her grip firm. He wouldn’t have resisted under normal circumstances, but certainly not after twenty-four hours of living hell. He desperately wanted...he wasn’t even sure. He’d trust her to figure it out.
His bedroom was dark and she made no attempt to change that. Stopping beside his bed, she cradled his face in both hands.
“I need a shave.”
“No, you don’t. You need me.” She brushed her full lips over his mouth.
Resting his hands on her hips, he closed his aching eyes and abandoned himself to the experience of being slowly, lovingly kissed by Ingrid.
She caressed his unshaven jaw and paid homage to his mouth. The aroma of baked goods mingled with her lemon shampoo, surrounding him with the scent he’d grown to crave.
The gentle, undemanding pressure of her lips soothed him. As the tension gradually drained from his tight muscles, he wrapped her loosely in his arms with a sigh of relief.
She leaned back and glanced up at him. Light from the hallway caught the soft glow in her eyes. “Better?”
“Getting there.” He had a million questions but he wouldn’t ask them. Not now.
“Good.” Her gaze held his as she unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate care. When she had it undone, she slid her hands up his chest.
Her touch was magic. He closed his eyes, drew in a slow breath and let it out. “Please do that some more.”
“Like this?” She stroked him again.
“Mm.”
“And this?” She began a slow massage.
He groaned softly. “Yeah. Where did you—”
“I knead bread for a living.”
“Never thought…of that.” Behind his fly, his cock was waking up.
“Kneading bread builds strong fingers.” Her warm breath tickled his chest a moment before her mouth made contact with his skin in a moist, erotic kiss.
He gasped and a wave of heat went straight to his crotch.
She pulled back. “Too much?”
“God, no. But I’m getting—”
“Is that a problem?”
He stared at her. “Not for me.” But he hadn’t expected her to—
She gave him a Cheshire Cat smile before returning to licking and kissing his chest, pushing his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms until it fell to the floor. Then she undid the metal button on his jeans.
Evidently his cock finally got the message and surged to life. Lack of sleep didn’t factor in. When she unzipped his fly, he was wide awake. All over.
Cupping he
r face in one hand and wrapping his arm around her waist, he lifted her into a kiss far steamier than hers had been. He was as careful as humanly possible about his beard, but he was hungry for her sweet lips.
When she reached inside his jeans, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Her magic hands caused havoc with whatever control he had left and he had to let her go so he could back away and drag in air. “I think…we’ve reached the point…of no return.”
“I think you’re right.” She whipped her t-shirt over her head and dropped it.
He’d started to shove his jeans and briefs down when she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. He paused in mid-motion and quietly cursed the dim light.
Yet enough filtered in to give him a stunning visual of her plump breasts in sepia tones. They quivered invitingly when she wiggled out of her shorts and panties. He looked his fill, memorizing each luscious curve.
“Do you need help?” Her voice rippled with laughter.
“I need whatever you’re willing to give me.” He shucked his jeans.
Chapter Fifteen
Breathe, girl. After meeting Wes in the hall after his shower last week, Ingrid should have been prepared for her first glimpse of him without the towel. So much for that theory.
The dim light could be a blessing. Gazing upon his muscled body and his jutting, impressive erection when he was partially hidden in shadows had given her what used to be called the vapors. A fully illuminated Wes might cause her to faint dead away.
After tossing back the covers on the bed, he turned and gave her a long look. “Second thoughts?”
“No thoughts at all. My brain checked out when you took off your jeans.”
“Then we’re in the same boat.” He closed the distance and pulled her into his arms, maneuvering her onto the bed and climbing in beside her.
She tingled with anticipation. All that male beauty and heat she’d been contemplating for days was finally within reach. She laid a hand on his lightly furred chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. “Feeling better?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then let’s take it up a notch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He coaxed her to her back and began a leisurely exploration of her body that soon had her writhing beneath him.
A Cowboy’s Challenge_The McGavin Brothers Page 9