She watched as her other hand came to rest on his chest. “I think so.” Then she looked into his face. “Yes.”
“Glad to hear it.” His shirt fell to the floor as he shaped the curve of her waist with his hands. “For a second there, I was afraid I’d wake up and discover you’re just a dream.”
“No dream.” On tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his mouth. “No Igor.”
“No complaints.”
In the next instant, he pulled the cranberry-colored sweater she wore over her head, letting it fall somewhere behind her. Underneath, she wore a silky beige camisole and bra. He ached to get those off her, too.
But he couldn’t concentrate because Arden had her hands all over him—his chest, his stomach, the bones of his ribs and the muscles of his back. Kneading, stroking, lightly scraping her nails over his skin, she had a good grasp of exactly what to do to drive him crazy.
And then she started using her mouth.
Griff bore it as long as he could, until his knees wobbled and his thighs shook and he knew he wouldn’t be standing in another minute. Wrapping his arms tight around her, he walked both of them to the bed.
Sitting almost immediately became lying, and then Arden moved on top of him, with a knee on either side, to continue the torture.
“You have to know,” he panted, because he couldn’t resist saying it, “that this is the ultimate fantasy for most teenage guys in the universe.”
Arden sat up and looked down at him. “What’s that?” Her hands didn’t stop their teasing.
He groaned. “Lying in your own bed in your own room, making love with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly hot woman like you.”
“You used to think about it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And how did it end?”
“Messily.”
“We can do better than that.”
“Yeah?”
For an answer, she bent to kiss him again. There were no words then, because neither of them had the breath to speak. Clothes slid off, dropping to the carpet. Skin to skin, body to body, Griff investigated the beautiful shapes and textures, tastes and scents, sharing his own in return. Time and again they approached the summit, but backed away, slowed down, allowed trembling fingers to relax.
Until finally there was no backing down, no retreat, no stopping either of them. He fitted himself inside her and began to move, breathless with pleasure, until a rush of heat stunned him and a light erupted behind his closed eyelids, like fireworks and sunrise and starburst all at once, the most magnificent explosion he’d ever experienced.
And even though he didn’t deserve it, because he hadn’t been thinking about much of anything but how she made him feel, he heard Arden give her own strangled cry of pleasure. Her body stiffened beneath him, around him, and he knew she had reached the same glorious place.
Thankful for that gift, Griff rolled to his side, because he was bigger than she was, but kept her cradled against his body, her head pillowed on his arm.
“You’re fantastic,” he mumbled, smoothing hair back from her damp, flushed face. “I will never be the same.”
Her sleepy smile widened. “I was inspired by the company I’m keeping.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He kissed her forehead.
“Mmm. You’re most welcome.”
The day had ended pretty well, he concluded, after the disaster of meeting up with what’s-her-name on the street. The stress of the surgery had added to his fatigue, though, and if he had his choice, he’d fall asleep right this minute. Maybe he should reach down to the bottom of the bed for a blanket first. Even with their shared warmth, Arden might get chilled—
“Griff?” His mother’s voice came from the foot of the staircase. “Griff, are you up there?”
Arden gasped. They both sat straight up on the bed. Both totally naked. In flagrante delicto, indeed.
“Y-yeah, Mom. I’m here. Arden and I are both up here.”
She glared at him, shaking her head.
“I’ll come up,” his mother said.
Griff went to the door, which was open, for heaven’s sake. “Don’t bother, Mom. We were just coming down. Really. We’ll be right there.”
A pregnant pause followed. He could practically visualize his mother as she interpreted the situation.
“Fine,” she said, in a cool, reserved voice. “I’ll make tea.”
“Sounds good,” he called. “See you in a minute.”
He reached for his shorts and jeans and looked over to see Arden pulling up her own. He’d seen her embarrassed before, but never had her cheeks blazed so bright a red.
“I am not going down there,” she whispered. “I refuse.”
“What are you going to do? She knows you’re here.”
“Because you told her so!” Picking up her sweater, she fought her way in, realized it was inside out and swore as she took it off again. “How stupid could you be?”
Griff fought the urge to laugh. “It’ll be okay, Arden. We’re all adults. We’ll get past this.”
“I will not get past being caught in your bed—naked, of all things—by your mother, of all people.”
“So you’re going to…”
“I’m leaving by the front door.” She pulled the sweater down to her waist and smoothed her hair. “Then I’m packing my suitcase and my dog and going back to Florida, where I will never have to face your mother, your father or your family ever again!”
Chapter Seven
Arden did exactly as she’d threatened. Storming into the guest cottage, though, she realized Igor needed to go for a walk.
She took him out the sunroom door and tried to stay behind the building as much as possible, in case Griff’s mother might be able to see her through the kitchen windows of the main house. And if Griff came after her, perhaps he wouldn’t search near the forest, where Igor liked to explore.
The sun lingered just above the ridges of the mountains, and the air had chilled considerably since noon, so Arden found herself getting cold long before Igor had satisfied his curiosity. She wasn’t used to temperatures in the forties, of course. And she wasn’t used to leaping straight from sexual satisfaction to a state of panicked embarrassment.
“Come on, Igor. Let’s go.” Tugging on his leash, she forced him to abandon an interesting fallen tree to walk back with her across the small lawn. “I’ll make your dinner before we leave.”
After mixing the canned and dry food she fed him, she refilled his water dish. Then she went into the bedroom to pack. But her hysteria had spent itself, and instead of pulling out her suitcase, she simply sat on the bed with her head in her hands.
Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame anyone else for the disaster that had occurred. The entire situation had been her fault. She’d intended to stay in the sitting area upstairs, had even picked up a magazine to read. But then Griff had put his head out the door, sent her that troublemaking grin and invited her to peek into his room. His unbuttoned shirt had revealed a tanned, muscled chest and the strong column of his throat—images she couldn’t get out of her mind once he disappeared again.
And she had to admit to being curious. What did a boy’s room look like? She’d never seen one, never visited a family where she was encouraged to play in the children’s rooms. A peek wouldn’t hurt.
But she was always fascinated by the books in any room she entered. And so she’d been drawn to his collection…and then he’d walked out of the bathroom without a shirt. How was she supposed to keep her distance, seeing his chiseled shoulders, his strong forearms covered with golden hairs, and the flat plane of his stomach? When they stood close, he’d smelled of some tangy soap and fresh air. Seeing the droplets of water sprinkled across his chest, she’d simply given in to every impulse she’d managed to control over the past three days.
With a moan, Arden fell sideways and curled up on the bed. Three days. She’d just had sex—wild, joyful and totally wonderful sex—with a man whom she hadn’t known exis
ted before New Year’s Eve.
And his mother had caught them…or near enough. How could Arden face Mrs. Campbell with that knowledge in both their minds? Surely this qualified as a horrible abuse of her hosts’ hospitality. Arden wouldn’t be surprised if Griff’s parents asked her to leave. She should really save them the trouble and take off.
But she had promised Griff she would stay until the wedding, and she hated to go back on her word. The look on his face today as he’d confronted Zelda had revealed the depth of his pain. Some people wouldn’t understand how much courage such a gesture required. For them, returning to the place where you’d been exposed and mortified might not seem so hard.
Arden knew differently. In Italy, she’d walked on stage three nights in a row to play the Bach D Minor Concerto for Two Violins with the top violinist in the local orchestra—one of the women with whom Andre had betrayed her. After each performance, she had held hands with that woman as they took their bows and accepted a kiss on each cheek. The other woman had only smiled, but Arden had read the truth in her eyes.
And in her dressing room that last night, Arden had lost the baby—Andre’s baby. Within weeks, she’d abandoned her career and the life she’d always known. How could she sentence Griff to a similar emotional desolation?
Leaving now would also mean abandoning her hope of having a baby. This wasn’t the right time in her cycle—she needed another week, at least, to be truly fertile. If she didn’t fulfill her part of the bargain, Griff couldn’t be expected to complete his. Everything they’d done so far would have been for nothing.
Nothing, that is, except the pure physical ecstasy of making love with a man unlike any she’d ever known. Arden admitted her experience was limited—she’d lost her virginity to Andre and hadn’t been with another man until today. But she’d slept with Andre for two years without coming close to the exquisite sensations of this afternoon. The earth had, indeed, moved. Now she wanted to experience that earthquake again. And again.
Blowing out a deep breath, she sat up on the bed and pushed her hair out of her face. Staying meant confronting Mrs. Campbell and the situation. She would have to brazen it out, she decided, leaving the explanations and reparations to Griff.
They were his family, after all. This was his home.
She was just passing through.
GRIFF WAS SPREADING garlic butter on slices of French bread when a shy tap sounded on the kitchen door.
“Come in,” he called, gesturing with the knife in his hand. “Welcome to Italian night.”
Arden stepped inside, shutting the door quickly behind her.
“I’m the sous-chef,” he told her, going over for a quick kiss. “She gives me the menial tasks. And lets me eat the food when it’s ready, which is the important point.”
“I hope you’ll join us,” his mother added. “I always make more pasta than any of us need to eat.”
“That sounds delicious.” Arden cleared her throat. “Can I help?”
Griff looked at his mother and saw that she was about to refuse…but then, in a split second, she changed her mind. “I’ve put vegetables by the sink.” She brought a big wooden bowl and tongs out of the cabinet. “Would you toss together a salad?”
Arden smiled. “I’d love to.”
His dad came in the door from the garage about seven-thirty. “Viva la pasta!” he shouted, after he’d kissed his wife. “Just what a working vet needs—besides a glass of wine. Anybody else?”
Griff exchanged looks with his mother and with Arden. They all said, “Me” at the same moment.
“Right.” Jake nodded. “It’s been that kind of day.”
Talk over dinner covered the emergencies at the clinic—a Chihuahua having trouble birthing her puppies, a Labrador that had eaten a bath towel and, of course, Rajah’s surgery.
“Sounds like that turned out pretty well, considering,” Jake said. “I called Stacy on my way home. She said the horse is bright-eyed and eating. She also talked about how fabulous you and your assistant were. Who went with you?”
“Arden.”
His dad sent a surprised glance in Arden’s direction. “The surgery didn’t bother you?”
She shook her head. “I thought it was fascinating. Although Griff did most of the hard work. I just wiggled the stupid board loose.” She hadn’t said much else during the cooking or eating process.
“I thought I’d go out there again tomorrow and check up on him.” Griff took a second helping of pasta and tomato sauce. “Stacy was a little squeamish about packing the wound.”
“Enough.” His mother held up a hand. “No graphic details at dinner.”
Griff and his dad rolled their eyes at each other.
“Besides,” she continued, “I have a slight dilemma we should deal with.”
“And what’s that, darlin’?” His dad used his second glass of wine as an excuse to thicken his slight Georgia accent. In the family’s ongoing Gone With the Wind drama, he took the role of Ashley Wilkes.
“Dee Patrick called me this afternoon. She wanted to assure me that the invitation we received for her cocktail party Friday night, in honor of Zelda and Al, included Griff and his fiancée.”
Griff continued to twirl his linguine around his fork, watching the process closely. He could feel Arden’s gaze on his face.
“I wanted to tell you two so you could decide what to do about that. There’s also a dinner party next Saturday at the club, hosted by Trip and Kayli Morgan. I expect I’ll hear from her tomorrow.”
Carefully chewing his pasta, Griff didn’t respond right away. He realized his mistake when his dad zeroed in on the important detail.
“Your fiancée?” He looked from Griff to Arden and back again. “It’s official, then? You’re getting married?”
Words failed him. Fortunately, Arden came to the rescue.
“We’ve talked about it,” she said calmly. “And Griff did introduce me to Zelda as his fiancée this morning. But since we haven’t known each other all that long, or spent a long period of time together, we’d like to wait before making a public announcement. Right now, it’s more of a family affair.”
“Including Zelda,” Jake said. “And her mother. Which means the whole town.” He frowned at Griff. “You let your pride get the better of you, I’m thinking.”
Griff relaxed his clenched teeth. “I guess I did. No harm done. I don’t mind the whole town knowing about Arden. She’s not something to hide under a barrel.”
“The explanations are awkward,” his mother murmured.
His temper surged. “Too bad.”
“You’ll be polite to your mother.” His dad got to his feet, looming over the table. “Or you’ll answer to me.”
Griff stood as well. “Yes, sir.” He looked down at his mother. “I apologize, Mom. I didn’t mean to snap at you. If anybody wants an explanation, just refer them to me. I will politely explain the situation to everybody in town, one by one by one, if necessary.”
She nodded. “All right.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to walk Arden to the cottage. I’ll return shortly and I’ll be happy to clean up the kitchen.” Not that there was much to do. His mother had always been an avid proponent of “clear as you go.”
“That’s fine,” his mom said.
But Griff, still furious, hadn’t waited for permission. He had pulled Arden’s chair out and was opening the back door.
“Good night,” Arden said quietly, with a nod to each of his parents. “A delicious dinner, Mrs. Campbell. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” slipped through just before he shut the door with a sharp push. Grabbing Arden’s hand, he headed across the lawn.
“You walk very fast when you’re angry,” she commented. “I’m going to have to start wearing jogging shoes all the time.”
“Sorry,” he growled, slowing down. “I’m just tired of being treated like a kid—a little kid with behavior issues.”
“Parents dev
elop habits of thought, I suspect, that can be difficult to change.”
“You’re too generous. My dad needs to control every situation. My mother wants everything to go smoothly. Running counter to either of those expectations causes friction.”
“We’re all adults. We can deal with it.”
He stopped dead and turned to look at her, aided by the full moon overhead. “I recognize the source. But what are you trying to say?”
The cold wind whipped around them as she hesitated. “You were so casual, when I was upset about the…the situation earlier. Why not apply the same standard to this problem?”
Griff crossed his arms. “Go on.”
“Your parents can hold whatever expectations make them happy. But what you decide to do is an entirely separate issue.”
“Easy enough to say.”
“And very hard to do?” She shrugged. “I guess that depends on whether you’re an adult or an overgrown adolescent.”
“That’s harsh.”
“That’s truth, Griff. Independence comes with a price, usually a painful one.” She turned toward the cottage. “Now I’m freezing and I’m going inside.”
He followed her. “You sound like you’ve had experience.”
“Yes.” When she tried to close the door, he slipped past her and shut it behind him. She glared up in exasperation. “What are you doing?”
“I want to hear about your declaration of independence.”
“The details aren’t important.”
“To me they are. What happened?”
“I told you this morning. I broke off my engagement.”
He thought for a moment. “Because you discovered him with your mother. From whom you are now estranged. So you broke up with her, as well. You kicked them both out of your life?”
“I couldn’t live with either of them.”
“And you went to Chaos Key. Alone.”
“Yes. Until Igor.”
She looked so forlorn, he couldn’t resist putting his arms around her. And he breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t resist.
“You’re a strong lady, Arden Burke.” He stroked his fingers lightly through her hair. “And you’re right. The decisions I make don’t have to meet parental expectations.” Lifting her chin, he kissed her delectable lips. “I demonstrated that this afternoon, I believe.”
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