Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts)

by Debra Webb

  Weren’t they nice? “I’ll be careful.” Abby turned her attention back to the table. In a matter of minutes she had deposited each solid colored ball into the pockets. As the two men watched in utter bewilderment, Abby sent the eight ball into the called corner pocket.

  “Does that mean I win this round?” Abby barely managed to stifle the laughter rising in her throat at their confused expressions.

  Luke and Roger laughed and chalked the whole thing up to beginner’s luck. Each took a turn at giving her a hearty slap on the back.

  “It’s my turn now, little lady,” Luke warned as he took Roger’s cue stick and dropped two more quarters into the slot. “And I ain’t no pool pansy like Roger.”

  She couldn’t hold back a laugh as Luke racked the balls and prepared to break. Roger complained good-naturedly about his dig. A blue ball dropped in the corner pocket.

  “Nice job, Luke.” Abby patted him soundly on the rear and grinned. Matthew and Roger coughed a little too loud, camouflaging their laughter.

  Luke dropped two more solid colored balls before he had a miss. Taking a low bow, he waved his hand toward the pool table. “My lady.”

  Abby did a little curtsy and stepped up to the table. She was stripes this time. Just as before, she dropped every single one into the pockets without a miss, and immediately followed with the eight ball.

  Luke grumbled something about Abby being a hustler as he stepped aside to let Matthew try his hand.

  “Next victim,” Abby teased as he stepped up to the table to break.

  Matthew gave her look that warned her luck had run out. “Never count your chickens before they hatch, darlin’.”

  He rubbed chalk on the cue stick and carefully positioned himself to make the break. Abby knew she was in really deep trouble when the mere sight of him bent over that pool table sent her temperature rising.

  When she snapped out of her fantasy, Matthew was preparing to drop the eight ball in a center pocket. Her eyes widened in disbelief. How had that happened so fast? He’d cleared the table while she daydreamed about his butt!

  His buddies gave Matthew a rousing cheer and ribbed Abby accordingly. Chastising herself yet again for allowing the man to distract her, Abby relinquished her cue stick to Luke. Matthew Stone was a dangerous distraction.

  “Guess I get the dance.”

  “What?” Abby jerked to attention.

  “The winning dance.” Mathew moved a step closer.

  “Oh, I guess I did agree to dance with the winner.”

  Shivers of anticipation rippled through her at the prospect of being in his arms.

  “Yes, you did.” He looked away for a moment, then he took Abby’s hand and led her onto the dance floor as the band struck up a slow love song.

  He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She didn’t miss the little catch in his breathing when she pushed her hands up and around his neck. Abby wanted to look away, to look anywhere but at him. Not happening in this lifetime. Her entire body ached with desire. Sensation after sensation exploded between them, and all she could do was hang on for her life. Never had she wanted to be kissed by anyone as much as she wanted to be kissed by Matthew.

  Right here.

  Right now.

  The feel of his strong arms around her and his hard body pressed against hers stole her breath. Her heart raced. She no longer heard the music the band played... was no longer aware of the other couples that surrounded them on the dance floor. Nothing else existed—only Matthew. His masculine scent... his eyes... the feel of his arms around her. The strength of his body as he cradled hers against him.

  The slow love song played on and on. When she could no longer bear to look into his eyes, she rested her forehead against his strong shoulder. The touch of his cheek, his lips against her temple made her head spin. The overwhelming sensations seemed to be inside her and around her at the same time. She wanted so much to kiss his neck... to fork her fingers through his hair.

  Abby felt Matthew’s hands move over her back as his arms tightened around her. She could feel her breath whispering against his bare skin... her lips were so close to the warm flesh of his neck. Instinctively her hold on him tightened. No matter what happened later, right now she wanted desperately to be closer to him and hold him... all night long.

  When the music finally stopped, Abby felt Matthew draw in a long, deep breath before he slowly moved away from her. He blinked, banishing the hypnotic trance that had held them locked together. He allowed her a brief, tight smile before turning away. The crowd pressed in against them and he reached for her hand, his long fingers curling instinctively around hers. Her heart stilled at that simple gesture.

  You’re on perilous ground now, a warning voice scolded. What she felt at this moment went well beyond fantasy and desire. Her slick professional veneer had not been nearly strong enough to withstand Matthew Stone.

  ~*~

  For a long while after they’d arrived back at Matthew’s house, Abby stood in front of the large mirrored dresser and wondered why she was experiencing all these chaotic emotions for a man she hardly knew and certainly had nothing in common with. Whatever the problem, it had started practically from the moment they’d met. His unapologetic sexuality did a real number on her journalistic objectivity.

  Abby absolutely, firmly, did not believe in love at first sight, nor did she believe in destiny. This had to be about nothing more than a man and a woman being thrown together under stressful circumstances. Opposites attract. Nothing more. Nothing at all. After all, she was only human. Put any red-blooded woman—who’d been living like a nun the past year—in the same house alone with a man who looked as if he should be on the cover of a lusty romance novel and fireworks were bound to follow.

  Chemistry and proximity, that’s all it could be. Absolutely.

  A light knock sounded from her open door. Abby turned to find him standing in the doorway. She never got that damned door closed properly.

  “Is something wrong?” She crossed the room, didn’t get too close for fear of doing something stupid. Allowing her eyes to meet his had the usual effect of taking her breath away.

  “I just wanted to say good night,” he said quietly, but his eyes gave his true feelings away. Abby saw the smoldering desire.

  She attempted a confident smile—despite her trembling. She wanted so much to touch him—to be held by him—but she didn’t dare. This nothing could go no further.

  “Good night, Matthew.”

  He started to turn away, but hesitated. His attention locked on her mouth. Her suddenly racing heart nearly stopped as he took the two steps that stood between them. Without a word his mouth descended toward hers. She alternately hoped he would stop before it was too late, then prayed nothing would prevent the kiss she’d secretly longed for since that simple brushing of lips, which seemed like a lifetime ago. And then his mouth captured hers.

  The kiss was soft and sweet... slow and easy. Warmth spread through her body, heating her from the inside out. Abby pressed her hands against his powerful chest and Matthew groaned in response to her touch. The sound sent ripples of pleasure zipping through her. She knew she should fight this, but she simply couldn’t. Her mind surrendered to the need to which her body had already yielded.

  Matthew eased his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His deepening kiss made her dizzy. She felt her hands go up and around his neck as if she had no control over them at all. She only wanted to hold him... to touch him the way he was touching her.

  The tantalizing sensation of Matthew’s tongue parting her lips and exploring her mouth made her tremble with need. Though his kiss deepened with exploding passion, his touch remained gentle and undemanding. It was simply a kiss—yet it left her tremendously weak when his lips suddenly parted from hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I guess I got a little carried away... again.”

  The whisper of his breath on her face, the fire in his eyes, and the gentleness of his wo
rds, ripped away the last of Abby’s defenses. How could she have ever hoped to resist this man? It was impossible to comprehend. He was like magic—mysterious and utterly irresistible.

  His lips touched her forehead with a kiss as tender and light as the warm southern breeze that stirred the night. When his gaze returned to hers, the burning passion that had threatened to consume them both was under control once more.

  “Good night.” His voice held a lingering trace of the desire that had burned them both.

  “Good night.” Abby watched him walk down the long hall to his own room. She’d never been kissed like that—she still hadn’t caught her breath. She closed her eyes and admitted defeat.

  Her heart would never be safe again until she was far away from Matthew Stone.

  Chapter Seven

  How could he have been so wrong?

  Matthew exhaled wearily as he pushed his fingers through his hair. Warm, golden sunshine streamed into the room, warming his bare chest. The light reflected and scattered as it made its passage through the slightly translucent panes of old glass. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he gazed out the window. Dew glistened on the lush green grass like scattered diamonds. The hand-like leaves of the massive maple trees shimmered and shifted slightly in the gentle breeze as if applauding the brilliance of the rising sun.

  He loved this place. Always had.

  How could one woman happen into his life and in a matter of days have him questioning everything he’d thought he wanted out of life? Matthew had truly loved his wife. He’d been devastated by her sudden death. Only in the last couple of years had he started dating again. And then only occasionally. But no woman—not even the one he wed—had ever made him feel the way Abby did.

  How could he want her so badly?

  Their goals, priorities and dreams were so far removed from each other that it felt as if an abyss yawned between their views on life. In spite of those differences, he longed to be with her, couldn’t look at her without wanting to touch her. Her scent made him ache with need. But he knew having her once would never be enough. He would want her over and over again.

  How the hell had this happened?

  Matthew took another sip of his rapidly cooling coffee, then set the cup back on the table. He laughed at how quickly last night’s theory had been blown out of the water. He’d walked around as hard as a rock all week, desperate for relief. He’d foolishly thought that maybe his buddies were right and any woman would do. He shook his head at his own stupidity. Matthew knew himself better than that. He was a one-woman man. Now that the right one had come along, she was all he thought about. Last night had been proof positive. The moment he’d seen her in that little black dress, the idea of looking at anyone else evaporated.

  Too bad Cupid had screwed up so badly this time. He and Abby were worlds apart. She would be leaving and he would just have to get over it. Somehow he knew that putting that particular theory into practice wasn’t going to be easy.

  Matthew scratched his chest and decided that it was entirely too early in the morning to be having such deep and disturbing thoughts. Besides, he’d come in here to escape those very thoughts—to relax. He scanned his makeshift studio and decided to work on the landscape this morning. Abby wasn’t up yet and he needed this time alone.

  Especially after that kiss. He closed his eyes and relived the mind-boggling emotions that had swamped him during that brief meeting of the lips. A myriad of feelings washed over him, tugging at something deep inside him. Fighting a raging arousal, Matthew banished the memory from his mind. He couldn’t think about Abby right now. He might never be able to think of her and maintain his sanity.

  Barefoot, he padded over to the easel and studied the work he’d done so far. It wasn’t bad, but it still wasn’t quite right. Something about the colors didn’t mesh on the canvas as they did in his mind’s eye.

  He’d drawn people and things all his life, but this—he studied the partially finished painting with a critical eye—was his first attempt at painting. Maybe he should have stuck with pencil and paper.

  Matthew frowned when he considered that Jenny had almost given his little secret away. It really wasn’t that big a deal, he supposed. Most everyone who knew him, knew that he’d always liked to draw. But this was private. Something he did just for himself. Alone. He didn’t want Abby making something out of it that it wasn’t.

  It was a hobby, nothing more.

  He had to keep this part of himself from her... she knew too much about him already. More than enough to leave him with a gaping hole in his heart.

  A heart, in his opinion, that had already suffered too much loss for one lifetime.

  After carefully arranging his supplies, Matthew picked up a brush, took a long deep breath and began.

  Color and texture slowly absorbed all thought.

  ~*~

  He was nowhere to be found.

  Abby had looked everywhere for Matthew. Maybe he was still asleep. She didn’t check his bedroom. It was still early, she thought, glancing at the old hall clock as it counted the hour as seven. Maybe he slept in on Saturdays.

  Obviously his customers didn’t. The telephone had rung fifteen minutes ago. When Matthew hadn’t answered, Abby had. She’d checked in with her editor a few days ago but there was still a remote chance the call could have been for her.

  But it hadn’t been. It had been a slow drip in Mr. Johnson’s outside spigot.

  Abby now knew more about plumbing than she cared to. She had also learned the names and shapes of several hand tools. She even knew how many tabs a typical roofing shingle had. Gee, wouldn’t all that come in handy back at the Up Close office?

  She groaned as she climbed the stairs. The week’s activities had left their mark in every muscle of her body. How did Matthew do it? She considered herself physically fit, but obviously not fit enough. She had muscles protesting that she didn’t even know existed.

  Quietly she padded down the hall to Matthew’s door. It was open several inches, so she peeked inside. Located on the west side of the house, shadows still lingered in the large room. The covers were thrown back in the bed, the sheets twisted from a night’s sleep, but no Matthew.

  The huge, inviting four-poster bed graced one side of the room. Other massive, masculine pieces of antique furniture were tastefully arranged about the rest of the room. A large braided rug dressed the wide expanse of wood floor. Her fear of being caught forgotten, she stepped into his room.

  His private domain.

  Matthew’s unique scent immediately cloaked her. Abby closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Need swept through her with such swiftness that she staggered in its wake.

  Her eyes popped open and reality kicked in. Recognizing that lingering in his bedroom was not a smart move—especially considering her state of dress, or undress rather—Abby scurried back into the hall. About to step into the shower when she’d heard the telephone’s persistent ring, she’d only taken the time to pull on her robe. Though it was long and covered everything from shoulder to ankle, the fabric was thin.

  Before she reached her own room, she paused and slowly turned back around. A door at the end of the hall was ajar. A door she hadn’t noticed before. Curious, she backtracked, passing Matthew’s room in the process. When she reached the door, she pulled it open a tad further and found a narrow, winding staircase.

  Did the house have a third floor? An attic, she decided. The roof looked steep from the ground. There could be an attic up there. As silent as a mouse, and feeling every bit as sneaky as one, she climbed the crooked stairs. The quiet roared deafeningly in her ears as she rounded the last bend before reaching the top.

  Big and bright, the room was much larger than she’d imagined and so bright that it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. Recessed windows on both the long walls allowed light to stream into the room. Huge diamond-shaped windows on each end allowed even more light inside. Like polished glass, the hardwood floor gleamed and reflected the bri
ght morning sun. An old, comfortable-looking couch sat at an angle in the middle of the space, and beyond that stood...

  Matthew.

  His back turned to her, leaving him unaware of her presence, Abby took her time analyzing the scene before her. There was a long table and shelves beyond where he stood. Objects she couldn’t really identify from her position lined the shelves. Sketch pads opened to drawings in various stages of completion were propped along the walls, as if awaiting the artist’s attention.

  The artist.

  His entire attention focused on the task of stroking paint onto the canvas, he appeared to be the artist in question.

  Why hadn’t he told her about this?

  She’d had no idea that he had a hobby, much less one of this caliber. Abby quietly padded to the nearest drawing, picked it up and studied it. The man was good.

  Recognition sparked. The charcoal drawing of the twins... Matthew had done that. Disappointment flowed through her. He hadn’t wanted her to know. She remembered the look he’d given Jenny when Abby had asked who the artist was.

  When she looked up from the drawing in her hand, he was watching her, his gaze measured, uncertain. She carefully set the drawing down and moved in his direction. Awareness shivered through her.

  Abby hesitated a few feet away, and allowed her gaze to meet his once more. “May I?” She gestured toward the painting.

  Without answering, he stepped aside. She moved closer then. A landscape. She glanced from the canvas to the nearest window and recognized the scene. Matthew was painting the lovely mountains that reached skyward beyond the rolling pastures that surrounded his home.

  “You’re very good.”

  “It’s just something I do to unwind.”

  Abby scanned the other drawings, walked to one in particular that sat near a window. It was Jenny, with an infant at her breast. A pang of want twisted inside Abby and for one brief moment she regretted her decision to steer clear of domesticity. She replaced the drawing, but her gaze lingered on the vivid rendering, done with such love, of mother and child.