PAIGE WATCHED COLIN for a few minutes after he drifted off.
She supposed the concussion was making him drowsy. Although he looked much better—much, much better—she was concerned about his condition. Her mother had been a nurse who specialized in traumatic brain injuries.
Paige nibbled her lower lip anxiously, studying her patient. Part of her was relieved he’d gone to sleep. His presence was magnetic, unsettling. She’d met her share of handsome men, but she wasn’t used to entertaining them in her cabin. Her initial estimate of his attractiveness had been way off.
He was a ten.
While unconscious, his slack features had been nice enough. He had good bone structure—strong chin, straight nose. Beard stubble shadowed his jaw. His hands were large but not heavily callused. She doubted he worked manual labor. He probably got his muscles from the gym or outdoor exercise.
Lucidity had transformed him from pleasant looking to fascinating. He had dark brows and thick stubbly lashes. The term “bedroom eyes,” which she’d always disregarded as fanciful, sprang to mind. His gaze crackled with intensity. He looked like the kind of man who really...paid attention. He also had a sensual, expressive mouth. That hint of softness, paired with a strong body and angular face, appealed to her.
This morning, when she’d woken up next to him... Oh, my.
Her cheeks heated at the memory. If she hadn’t been so quick to cover herself, would he have tried to touch her? He’d seemed interested, despite his headache.
She didn’t flatter herself into thinking his reaction meant something. Most men responded to the sight of bare breasts. Although she hadn’t intended to fall asleep naked, she couldn’t blame him for noticing. She’d peeped at him first, after all.
Letting her gaze wander down the center of his chest, she took another gander. The blanket had settled around his waist, covering his splayed knees. His open shirtfront exposed a tantalizing swath of skin. He had a sexy whorl of hair on his stomach. One of his hands was draped across his lap, the other shoved beneath the blanket. She couldn’t see what was going on down there, perhaps a protective cupping between his legs.
She stood and walked across the room, her heart racing. In her experience, hot guys didn’t always have the best personalities. This one was clever, with a quirky sense of humor. The more he spoke, the more she liked him. She got the impression that he liked her, too. He’d definitely been checking her out.
For better or worse, they’d be spending the weekend in this confined space together. Getting to know each other. Assuming he was single and willing, he might make a pass at her. What would she do?
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation.
Casual sex wasn’t a great idea. Well, it wasn’t a bad idea, either, in certain circumstances. She’d had a couple of flings with tourists. Crystal Crag attracted rock climbers in the summer, and the snow brought big crowds of sportsmen in the winter.
Paige wasn’t opposed to playing the field and having fun. She hadn’t invited dates back to the cabin when Paul was home because that would have been weird. Her brother’s presence was no longer an issue, but the storm created its own set of difficulties. When neither party was free to leave, extreme awkwardness could ensue.
Or...feelings might develop.
She was already drawn to Colin and concerned for his welfare. Maybe saving him had forged a special bond between them. The instant connection surprised her. She didn’t get attached easily and she tended to distrust charming men. After the loss of her parents and a heartbreaking betrayal at the hands of her ex, she’d learned to keep her guard up.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at the frosty white blur outside her front window. The details he’d recounted from the accident were odd. He couldn’t explain why he’d been driving in such a reckless, unsafe manner.
Was he hiding something from her?
With a small frown, she ventured into her bedroom for a hooded sweatshirt. Her hair was a mess, so she took a few minutes to run a comb through the tangles. Then she brushed her teeth and applied a hint of lip gloss.
Feeling better, she returned to the front room and gathered their wet clothes, taking them to the washing machine in the hallway. His pockets yielded no personal identification, just a set of keys and a money clip. His SUV must have had a button ignition. The disc-shaped keychain said Bates Motel, Fairvale, CA.
She left the keys and cash on the dryer, guessing that Colin was a Hitchcock fan. After putting the load to wash, she wandered back to the kitchen. Although she hadn’t intended to work this weekend, she was too wound up to read. Sitting down at the table, she opened up her laptop and scrolled through the photos she’d uploaded yesterday.
Of the hundreds she’d taken, about thirty were good enough to post on her website, ten were excellent and four were stunning. She’d submit those to various magazines and hope for the best. It wasn’t easy to make a living as a photographer, so she’d learned to diversify. In addition to landscapes and wildlife, she covered a variety of winter sports and local events. She also did freelance page layouts for online publications. Deciding which images to use and where to place them wasn’t quite as gratifying as taking the shots herself, but it was creative work and it paid well.
A few hours later, she got up to stretch. Colin was snoring softly on the couch. Her tummy rumbled as she spotted a box of blueberry-muffin mix on the shelf. The early-morning soup hadn’t felt like breakfast. She’d skipped coffee, too.
After closing the file on her laptop, she puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and muffins. When the pot finished brewing, it beeped. Colin roused at the sound, lifting his head to look at her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Is that coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Mmm.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better,” he said, throwing aside the blanket. “Hungry.”
She watched him walk across the room, noting that he appeared steadier on his feet. When he tried to approach the coffeepot, she stepped in. “Sit,” she said, pointing at the table. “Do you take cream and sugar?”
“If you have it.”
“Actually, I don’t,” she admitted. “I use honey and milk.”
“Sounds good.”
She added a little of both to a cup and plunked it down in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip.
“I have some muffins baking. But I can make bacon and eggs if you’d like to try something more substantial.”
His eyes lit up at the word bacon. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Not at all,” she said, removing the items from the fridge. Her brother had always preferred savory breakfasts over sweet. It was kind of nice to have a man with a hearty appetite in the house again.
“Is your internet working?”
“No. I just checked.”
“I like your screen saver. This is Twin Lakes?”
“With Crystal Crag in the background.”
“Who took it?”
“I did.”
“It’s a great shot.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she added bacon to the frying pan. “I’m a photographer.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see more?”
“Sure. There’s a bunch of image files on the desktop. You can click on Dawson Collection for a basic mix.”
He browsed the photos while she fried bacon. Although he didn’t comment on every image, he seemed impressed by her skills, and he had a good eye. He questioned her about the best of each subset.
“Wow,” he said, leaning closer to the screen. “Is this you in the pond?”
“It’s a hot spring. But yes, it’s me.”
&nbs
p; “How did you take it?”
She moved the bacon to a plate and turned down the burner. “With a timer. That was a challenging shot.”
“Why?”
“Nudes are difficult, especially in color. There are so many variables to natural light and skin tone. I was also posing for myself, which is a pain. I couldn’t see how it looked until I got out and dried off.”
The end result was quite chaste. Her back was to the camera, one hand touching her upswept hair, the other covering her breast. The water rose to her hips and a layer of steam added a hazy border, softening the edges.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
She flushed at the praise. “Thanks.”
The muffins were ready, so she grabbed a mitt and opened the oven to retrieve them. As she straightened, Colin averted his gaze from her backside. She put the tin down and cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, her pulse jumping.
Although the nude photo was more revealing than her outfit, it didn’t seem as personal. It had become a piece of artwork, separate from her real self. His attention felt personal, however. She got the impression that he was picturing her without clothes. He didn’t have to stretch his imagination to do so.
She finished cooking and cleared the table, bringing the food to him. He picked up his fork and dug in. They ate in companionable silence. The sound of him scraping his plate was compliment enough.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked.
She drank from her coffee mug before she spoke. “Four years. The cabin’s been in my family for about fifteen.”
“Your parents own it?”
“No. They died in the San Diego earthquake.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “They were on the freeway when it collapsed.”
He straightened in his chair, seeming to understand the implications. “Is that why you saved me?”
“Maybe. I thought of them in that moment.”
“What were they like?”
It was a rare question. Talking about her parents’ deaths usually shut down the conversation. “They were...very happy together. They argued and had normal fights, but they loved each other. And us. My little brother and I were lucky to have them.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“What about you?”
“My dad left when I was six.”
Sympathy welled within her. “That’s too bad.”
“My mother did pretty well without him.”
He’d also done well, if the expensive clothes and car were any indication. An overachiever, perhaps.
“So you and your brother inherited the cabin?”
“We inherited this and the house in Solana Beach, where we were born. It was paid off, but neither of us wanted to live there. Paul was always traveling, and it was too big to keep up. So we sold it and kept the cabin.”
“How long have you been living alone?”
“About a year. My brother invited me to move in with him and his girlfriend, but I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“I like it here.”
He glanced around, perhaps thinking she should have gone with Paul. “You definitely need a cat.”
She laughed in surprise. “Where did you get yours?”
“Ghost wandered in from the street. I called her Tom for months. When I took her to the vet to get neutered, they informed me she was female.”
“You couldn’t tell?”
“I’d never looked.”
She studied him from across the table, enjoying his sheepish grin. He’d photograph well. Sitting with his shirt hanging open, hair mussed, coffee mug in hand, he looked like a cozy housewife fantasy. Her fingertips itched to pick up her camera and snap a few candids. “I could use a cat for company.”
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“Male intuition,” he said, still smiling. “Or maybe just wishful thinking.”
She glanced away, moistening her lips. “Most of the single men around here are tourists. Not long-term material.”
“What about short-term?”
“I dated a snowboarder last winter.”
“A snowboarder? Was he legal?”
“He was twenty-nine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But definitely a globe-trotter. He left with the spring thaw.”
His expression grew pensive. “Do you miss him?”
“A little.” She’d never thought Marcus would stay, so his departure hadn’t upset her. Between the two of them, he’d been more invested in the relationship. Her feelings for him had never developed beyond affection. “It wasn’t serious.”
Colin seemed satisfied by the answer. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the muffin on her plate.
“Do you want a muffin?” she asked.
“I’ll take that one, if you’re not going to finish it.”
“There’s plenty more.”
“I’d rather eat yours.”
She gave the remaining half to him, suspecting that he meant to be suggestive. If he’d thought to amuse her with the innuendo, he underestimated his sex appeal. She melted at the thought of him devouring her.
Flustered, she rose from the table and took the plates to the sink. She was disturbed by her attraction to him and concerned about their revealing conversation. She didn’t usually open up to strangers, but his questions had caught her off guard. He’d cut right to the heart of her issues. Male intuition, he’d joked. Maybe he just had good observation skills or a knack for understanding human nature.
He made her feel hot and tingly and...vulnerable. The last time she’d given herself to a man, body and soul, he’d broken her trust at the worst possible moment.
There was a reason she’d rather have a cat than a long-term boyfriend.
Chapter Four
COLIN FELT LIKE a geeky teenager with Princess Leia.
Paige sent his hormones into overdrive. He often used humor to mask his nervousness, and she had a powerful effect on him. She was beautiful, but he’d seen a lot of beautiful women. He’d even dated some. There was something else about her, a fierce independence and inner strength that appealed to him.
They just...clicked. He could feel it.
“More coffee?” she asked, lifting the carafe.
“Sure.”
She refilled his cup and her own, adding a bit of milk and honey. “How long have you lived in L.A.?”
“About ten years. I was born in Colorado.”
“So you know how to drive in snow.”
“I’m a bit rusty, but yes. I know enough to slow down.” He frowned, still unable to believe he’d been driving recklessly on a slick mountain road. He hoped there hadn’t been a family emergency.
“What brought you to California?”
“A teaching job.”
“Where at?”
“USC.”
Her catlike gaze sharpened. “That’s a tough school to get into.”
“Yes,” he agreed. He’d been lucky to land a part-time position. Two tenured professors had retired, and another had suffered a knee injury. The department had had a sudden opening and Colin was available on short notice.
“What subject do you teach?”
“Anthropology.”
“I can’t picture it.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t look like an anthropology professor.”
“I left my tweed jacket at home.”
She took a closer look at him, her lips curving into a smile. “Do your female students come to class with messages written on their eyelids? ‘I love you, Dr. Jones,’” she mimicked, batting her lashes i
n slow motion.
He laughed, embarrassed. “Indiana Jones taught archaeology. That’s not my field.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m just plain old Professor Reid. I don’t steal cultural artifacts or carry a horsewhip. I am afraid of snakes, though. We have that in common.”
“What about the girls?”
“What about them?”
“They don’t hit on you?”
“No.”
“You’re being modest. Students always fantasize about cute professors.”
“Maybe, but they don’t act on it.”
“And you’re never tempted?”
“Not really. I’d get fired, and most of my students are way too young for me. I’m like a married man in the classroom. I keep my distance and don’t invite personal questions. They know not to approach me with any...romantic designs.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“That’s young, for a professor.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Older than he’d thought. He wouldn’t feel as if he was taking advantage of her if, by some miracle, she decided to heat up the furs with him, caveman style.
“Colin Reid,” she said, tapping her chin. “That sounds familiar.”
His muscles tensed with unease. She’d heard of him. Damn! They’d been getting along so well. He didn’t want his minor fame to change the dynamic between them. She actually seemed impressed by his professor status and interested in him as a person. He was loving every second of it.
“Isn’t there an author named Colin Reid?”
“Yes.” Him.
“He does that Paranormal PI series,” she said, rising from the table. Colin Reid was a common name, so she might not guess they were the same person. He was about to come clean when she crossed the room and picked up a reading device. “I read Thriller this summer. I didn’t like it.”
His curiosity was piqued. “Why not?”
“I’m trying to remember,” she said, scrolling through the pages. The crease between her brows disappeared as she found the problem. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Well...have you read it?”
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