by Robyn Grady
His lips twitched. “Bet he didn’t like puppies, either.”
“Or kittens.”
Zack was kind enough to smile softly. “You were right to ditch him.” Then he shifted and changed the subject. “What about your professional life?” he asked. “What are you working toward?”
“One day I hope to be the editor in chief of the biggest, glossiest magazine around. Basically world domination in my field.” She added, “While staying clear of men who tell bad chicken jokes.”
“No getting away from me tonight.”
She put on a sigh. “Guess I’ll suffer for a good cause.”
The tease in his eyes gradually took on a vaguely different light at the same time the quirk lifting one side of his mouth faded away and a different awareness began to ripple between them. The crackle from the fire sounded louder, the rise and fall of his chest became deeper. Pumping in and out of the light, the pulse at the side of his throat throbbed faster and, entranced, her body responded to it all.
Her breasts came alive, swelling, heating. Low inside, a delicious ache flowered and grew. She watched his lips part slightly, saw his eyes darken more, then he reached out and a hot fingertip trailed her jaw. That delicious ache spread south—a sweet, raw burn.
When he brushed back hair fallen over her face and his hot palm stayed to cup her cheek, all the oxygen in the room disappeared. Suddenly heavy, her eyelids drifted shut as her body—her very essence—gravitated unerringly toward his. With the lights out, with this extraordinary man she barely knew, everything felt so unreal. So…imminent. She didn’t want to think about who he really was. That before today she would have given him less than the time of day. At this moment, he truly was irresistible.
“Your hair,” he said in a deep, drugging voice. “A wave came loose from its tie.”
“Oh.” She breathed in. Out. Then the words just slipped past her lips and she said it. “I thought you might’ve wanted to kiss me.”
That pulse in his throat beat twice as hard and, while she held her breath, he blinked slowly once. “Actually I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He leaned across and his mouth grazed hers, first slowly one way then the other. “Trouble is,” he murmured, “if I kiss you now, I won’t want to stop.”
She quivered to her pom-pom-topped toes and clapped a hand over her scruples’ eyes.
Who said anything about stopping?
But then her thoughts slid back to what had brought them here in the first place. “What about the baby?”
“You’re right,” he agreed even as his lidded eyes drifted shut. He leaned that inch closer and his mouth feathered over hers again. “We should think of our responsibilities.”
But his mouth lingered and as his scent burrowed deeper, Trinity couldn’t recall a single reason why she shouldn’t fan her palm up over his shoulder and bring herself delectably, irreversibly closer. When he tasted the corner of her mouth—a deliberate, potent caress—that beautiful ache flooded her core and the last remnants of common sense shut down. She’d be lucky to remember her own name.
The tip of his tongue slid a deliberate line across the seam of her lips. “Maybe if we just snuggled?” he said and she felt his grin. “You know. To keep warm.”
When his sandpaper chin grazed the side of her face and he dropped a kiss on the shell of her ear, the knowledge—the intense glow of longing—was too much. Near dizzy with need, she told him in a husky voice, “I think snuggling would be okay.”
A big palm traced down her side. She heard a sigh—her own—and then he was kissing her in earnest and with an innate skill that left her reeling.
As his tongue penetrated and twined languidly with hers, everything but the ecstasy evaporated. His kiss was hot and deep and thrilling. When his head angled down and body ironed up against hers, she only surrendered more. His superior weight eased her over and back until she lay flat beneath him.
With their mouths still locked, a satisfied noise rumbled in his chest as one arm haloed her head and the other hand held and gently directed her chin. Her splayed fingers found their way over the broad dome of his back while her foot—its slipper now lost—dragged curling toes up his hard leg and her hips pressed up longingly. She was drowning, dying in some perfect wicked dream. When the kiss deepened more and he ground against her, his arousal pressed into her belly and she groaned and reached down.
A log crumpled and fell into its bed of hot ash. The hiss of sparks flying brought her back with a start. When she turned her head, broke the kiss, his head came up.
His breathing was labored and his heavy gaze uncommonly dark. No hint of understanding or restraint marked in his expression. As he hovered above her, all she saw, and felt, was resolve.
An audible rumble vibrated from his chest as his gaze lowered to devour her lips and his head gradually dropped again. Uncertain, Trinity held herself still. She’d gotten carried away, too, but did she really want to make love to a man she was supposed to despise—particularly with a baby sleeping a few feet away?
His parted lips stopped a hairbreadth from hers. The walls receded as she swallowed deeply and the ground seemed to sink away beneath her. Then, on a real growl, he clenched his jaw and rolled away. Trinity’s heart fell at the same instant her throat clogged with a dozen different emotions. He was disappointed. Frustrated. She was sorry she’d led him on, if that’s what had happened, but he’d just have to deal with the sting of rejection like most of the population.
Then a powerful arm scooped under her shoulders and Trinity’s heart skipped two beats as he drew her mercilessly near, half on top of him. His body was beyond hard, as if a thousand steel links had locked him into place. She felt vulnerable, still wanting him, but also a thousand times decided. She might be physically attracted to him, more than she’d been to any man, but she hadn’t come here for sex. And she intended to leave this house with that assertion intact. Regret lasted longer than pleasure.
She was about to tell him again—no—but as that tense moment passed into another, he didn’t try to kiss her again. He simply lay there, stiff on his back, his arm holding her close, fingers beginning to drift up and down the silk of her sleeve.
“Does this qualify as snuggling?” he asked.
“Put me back down and I’ll tell you.”
He considered it then eased her over until she lay beside him. Resting on an elbow, his cheek balanced in a palm, he gazed down at her. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“That’s a good idea.”
He nodded and when his arm reached under and brought her gently over, she didn’t resist. Making love might be out of the question, but she wasn’t made of stone. What harm could come from cuddling with a man-god on a chilly night?
As her cheek gradually lowered to rest against the hard plateau of his T-shirt-covered chest, Trinity let out a long end-of-the-day breath, listened to his heart thumping like he’d run a mile and closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when a thought struck and her eyes flew open.
Damn it. She’d never made that call to New York.
Four
The next morning, Zack blinked open his eyes long before either of his guests.
Beyond that south wall of windows, snow was still falling and all was buried in a deep sea of white. He’d need a shovel to make it much past the front door. Sure bet, roads were impassable. Child Services wouldn’t be out today. Which meant it was just him, the baby and Trinity Matthews…who, despite her qualms, had slept right alongside him the entire night.
Remembering her peaceful, even breathing, the alluring warmth of her skin, he carefully edged over to face her…then didn’t move for the longest time.
Both hands were clasped on the pillow under her chin as if she were in prayer. A sweep of sable hair fell like a stole around one shoulder’s vibrant red silk. Long, curved eyelashes rested against healthy, flushed cheeks. Her lips were pink, slightly parted and near irresistible.
Yesterday, after they’d learned the Dales were out, that same mouth
had been set, determined; she’d wanted to turn back. Later, cradling the baby as if the little girl was her own, her lips had been lifted in a perpetual, caring smile. Last night, those same lips had glistened in the firelight, tempting him to take them. Take her.
He wanted her still.
Zack sucked down a breath. His blood was pumping faster, hotter, and the longer he laid here and dwelled, the harder and more on edge he’d get. He wanted to sift his fingers through that long, silken hair. Longed to gather her close and claim that second kiss. So warm and honeyed, he could taste her now…
Biting down, he moved the quilt back and a moment later ten bare toes were curling into the soft pile rug which had formed the base for their campout bed. Stretching his back, he glanced around. The fire had burned out, and the light over the bar hadn’t blinked back on. Electricity was still out, which meant no power for the landline. Too late to wish he’d had that generator replaced after it had died last year.
He dashed a look over at the kitchen counter.
Had his cell regained reception?
He tiptoed over and tried to thumb the phone on. Still no reception. But the blank screen sparked a thought and he frowned. Trinity had good reason for not making it to New York this morning, but she ought to have at least texted when she’d had the chance. That “five minutes” had turned into the rest of the night.
Knowing Trinity’s history—how she’d grown up a ward of the state—he better understood her decision to stay until the baby’s situation was resolved. With no Mrs. Dale, thank God she had insisted. He couldn’t have handled the mess, the crying and constant soothing that an infant seemed to need. As far as those kinds of occupations went, he was a giant dud. He was a bachelor, unencumbered and unattached. For the foreseeable future, he planned to keep it that way.
His family laughed about it, said he’d change his attitude when the right woman came along, but Zack wasn’t so sure. He enjoyed his freedom too much. And being the odd one out as far as starting his own family was concerned certainly had its advantages. His brothers were good businessmen but their first loyalty was to their immediate families. Which left him to tighten any company slack that from time to time crept in.
Everyone had an ultimate role to fill. Clearly taking over from his father, being chairman of Harrison Hotels, was his. Although folk who read trashy magazines—or wrote for them—might mistake him for little more than a self-centered womanizer.
A shiver raced over his skin and he studied the fireplace again. He should light another log but he wouldn’t risk the noise. Then again, the baby hadn’t made a peep for—he checked his wristwatch—ten straight hours.
Padding back over, he hunkered down.
Her little arms were out of the wrap. Her cheeks were pink. He’d never seen a more angelic face. She might have been a porcelain doll except for the slight rise and fall of her chest. Trinity had mentioned saying goodbye would be hard.
A corner of his mouth hitched up.
She sure is a sweetheart.
His stomach muscles tensed and he pushed to his feet. Hunger pains. With no dinner last night, he really ought to eat.
He was standing in the kitchen, hands on hips, wondering how quietly he could set coffee on the stove when his cell buzzed. The realization sank in—reception was back—and he dived at the counter. Striding down the back hall, he waited until he was in the study to answer.
“Snowstorm, anyone?”
At the voice, Zack relaxed. Not Child Services but Thomas, his younger brother, a regular smart aleck and the sibling he felt closest to. Zack clicked the door shut.
“I’m about to get out the snowplow,” Zack joked.
“Mmm. Sounds like fun.”
Remembering his guests asleep in the living room, Zack crossed to a window view of winter wonderland in April and pressed a palm against the jamb. “It’s not as bad as all that.”
“Surrounded by wilderness. Cut off from society. Give me downtown traffic and Starbucks any day.”
“Don’t mention coffee. Haven’t had this morning’s hit yet.”
“Then I’ll keep it brief. Dad wants to know how it went on that deal yesterday with James Dirkins. When can we expect to close?”
Zack’s arm fell from the jamb. “I need more time.” The line crackled. When Thomas’s words cut in and out, Zack clamped the phone harder to his ear. “What was that?”
“I said I’m sure Dad’s happy to leave the negotiations to you. Where business is concerned, you can make a porcupine quill go down as smooth as Jell-O.”
Admittedly, he was a good negotiator. Success was about keeping emotion out of the mix. A cool head was key. Still…
He remembered Dirkins’s expression yesterday—drawn, reflective…reluctant to hand over his deceased son’s inheritance—and for some reason, an image of Trinity holding the baby flashed into his mind’s eye.
His stomach rolling again, Zack shrugged.
“James Dirkins has a strong personal attachment to the place. I get that.”
“Uh, sorry? Since when did personal matters ever factor into your corporate dealings?”
Zack’s eyebrows snapped together. “Since never. I was just saying.”
Silence echoed down the line.
“Are you all right, Zack? You sound…different.”
“I’m good. Better than good.” He crossed the room and opened the door a crack. He thought he’d heard the baby. “Tell Dad I’ll have the papers signed this week,” he said, cocking an ear and peering out down the hall.
Out in the living room, the baby squeaked.
“Zack, do you have someone with you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“A female?”
“Two.” He thought he heard Thomas drop the phone. Before the questions could fly, he cut his brother off. “It’s a long story.”
“For this, I have a few minutes.”
Grinning, he headed out. “Sorry, buddy. Gotta go.”
Zack found Trinity still sound asleep and the baby lying quietly, looking as if she were waiting for someone to notice she was finally awake. When he bent closer, she caught the movement and focused. The vibrant blue of her eyes took him a little off guard, but when she continued to stare, he tried a small smile. Waited.
She didn’t smile back.
However, neither did she burst into tears, although her brow seemed somehow to pinch as if she were uncomfortable. Zack scrubbed his chin. Must be tough not being able to roll. Maybe he could shift her a little, prop her up. Gingerly he scooped a hand beneath her back and instantly recoiled. Oh, God, she was wet. Make that sopping, right through her outfit. Shuddering, he glanced across. Trinity was still out of it.
Studying the baby again, he whispered, “So what am I supposed to do with you?”
She only stared, her little fingers wiggling on top of the blanket.
He scratched his temple, paced away then back again. He couldn’t bear to think of her lying in those sodden clothes, and yet he couldn’t imagine handling them to change her, either. Every man had his limit and this was his.
Placing thatched fingers on his head, he thought for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat. Not on purpose. Not really.
While the baby only looked harder as though he were some kind of puzzle, Trinity sucked in a breath and, gradually waking, stretched tall one arm. Two seconds later, she sat bolt upright, her violet eyes round and startled. Her gaze found his at the same time she shoved a fall of hair back and held it from her face.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
He rocked on his heels. “Nope. We’re real. And she’s wet.”
Trinity slapped the quilt away and crawled over. As if the baby knew “the one with the bottle” was near, she screwed up her nose and mewed out something that might have been a small cry.
Hands going to her cheeks, Trinity visibly melted. “Oh, poor darling. She must be hungry.”
“There’s a more pressing matter.”
“She needs changing
.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“You don’t want to have a go?”
“I could answer that question a number of ways but the conclusions would all be the same.”
She pretended to be surprised. “No?”
“I’m a man who can admit to his shortcomings.”
“A shortcoming implies that you’d like to better yourself and learn.”
“Then I used the wrong word.”
Grinning and shaking her head, Trinity stood to collect the baby.
He’d seen her in the same pajamas last night but now, in the bright morning light rather than flickering shadows, he received the full impact. The shirt and bottoms literally hung off her slender frame. Not a suggestion of a curve or line anywhere. The trousers were so long, they puddled around her feet, the sleeves hung past her fingertips, the front was buttoned as high as it would go…and, hands down, it was the sexiest set of ladies’ nightwear Zack had ever seen.
Stepping back to give her room, his attention was drawn to her face, pillow creased on one side but well rested and already, within a moment of waking, fully animated. As she smiled at the baby, her eyes captured the morning light, which sent them sparkling like a pair of cut amethyst. If he weren’t careful, a man could get hypnotized by eyes like that.
When she lifted the baby up from the recliner, however, reality struck a blow. He heard—almost felt—the squelch and he backed up more, all the way to the kitchen.
“I’ll handle the formula.”
Trinity was rubbing her nose with the baby’s. “I might give her a bath. Freshen her up. Want to help?”
“After I finish bottle duty—sure thing.”
No censuring look this time. She merely drifted off with her bundle toward the laundry room. The way she was grinning and babbling to the baby, she’d forgotten all about her fatigue the previous night and was ready to do it all over again. Great because, unless he was mistaken, more of the same was precisely what was in store this coming day.
Zack waited to hear splashing from the laundry room then happy squeals before placing the formula canister on the counter. Clearly Trinity loved caring for the baby, which meant regardless of her teasing he was off the hook as far as hands-on went. And, seriously, no one wanted the poor kid to burst into tears the moment he took over, least of all him.