Just a Whisper Away

by Lauren Nichols

  Abbie’s dark eyes flashed. “You’re censoring my television programs?”

  “Only that one. It’s been on almost nonstop since you got here.”

  “All right,” she said crisply, marching away. “Your house is full of TV sets. I’ll watch it in my room.”

  Three long strides put him in front of her, blocking her path to the hall. His penetrating gaze held hers and she glared right back.

  Then without warning, the snap and sizzle they’d been dealing with since Sunday night exploded in their faces.

  Chapter 8

  They came together in a frantic rush, their kisses hot from the start and growing hotter with every shuddering breath they took. Jace plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth, felt his blood rush to the business end of his body.

  Abbie tore her lips from his, her words a fast, breathy tremble. She wanted this but— “Jace, we got past a kiss, but this—this is different. What happens afterward?”

  “I don’t know,” he gasped, then said, “We—we ignore it, pretend it never happened.”

  “Impossible,” she blurted breathlessly.

  He nuzzled her ear, then blazed a trail of kisses down to her jaw and throat. “Nothing’s impossible if we want it badly enough. We take what’s here tonight, get rid of the craziness and finally get a decent night’s sleep.” He slid his mouth down to the scooped neckline of her sweater, and Abbie closed her eyes as his warm breath spilled over the high swells of her breasts. “God, Abbie,” he rasped, “you’re so beautiful and I need you so much. Yes or no?”

  The need to be his again surged full force and she knew she couldn’t step away from this. Not from the wild, reckless pounding in her temples, and not from the desperate need to leave the wolf at the door. It had been years since she’d felt this kind of heart-hammering, mindless passion. Fourteen years.

  “Yes.”

  Jace pulled her sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then with bumping hands, he unhooked the front catch on her bra and slipped her straps off, while she fumbled with his buttons and tugged his shirttails from his jeans. Seconds later, his shirt, jeans, socks and briefs were on the floor, too. He reclaimed her mouth, and flames licked over Abbie’s raw nerve endings.

  She drove her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, opened wider for his thrusting tongue. She felt her breasts go heavy and full in his hands.

  From the moment she’d stepped into his arms at the country club, she’d wondered what it would be like to love him again. Wondered if the years had changed him. They had, and it was all for the good.

  Breaking from the kiss, Jace unsnapped her jeans and tugged her zipper down—helped her yank and wriggle until her jeans and socks were on the pile, too. Then, shuddering, unashamed of their nakedness or the boldness of their touches, they kissed and stroked, letting their hands relearn their hard swells and tender hollows.

  Jace dropped to his knees to kiss her ribs, her fluttering stomach, dispose of her lacy panties. He brought her down on the hardwood with him—then seemed to realize he’d missed his target and scooted them over to the long alpaca rug.

  It was as though they both wanted this so desperately, they needed to hurry before either of them had a chance to change their mind.

  Blood thudded in Jace’s temples as he covered her with his body—thudded a dozen other places, too. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was saying, She just wants to forget for a while. This means nothing to her. But he didn’t care. Once he’d wanted her forever, but tonight, he was in it for the here and now. They both were. And the release he’d fantasized about since he saw her in that backless dress at the Mardi Gras party was only moments away.

  Braced on his elbows, he felt her hands slide down the slope of his back to his hips, felt her reach for him. And a second later he was sheathed in her warmth and moving, moving. Her breathing changed almost immediately. When he felt her contract around him and tuck her face into his neck, he knew she was on her way.

  He tried to wait. Tried to give her more time. But she felt too good, and suddenly that slamming fierceness claimed him. With a breathy catch in his throat, Jace turned her face up to his again. Then he sealed his mouth to hers and gave himself permission to feel.

  It happened so fast for both of them, it was as though a dam had burst, sweeping them high on rushing waters then plunging them into suffocating sensation. They gripped each other hard, rode the wave to the end…then slowly and tiredly, found purchase again.

  For a while, tiny aftershocks pinged through her, and a languorous peace turned Abbie’s bones to butter. But as those feelings slowly ebbed and her legs and arms became her own again, the reservations she’d cast aside settled in.

  She stopped stroking the thick hair at his nape, stopped scattering kisses over his shoulder and collarbone…became aware of the soft rug against her shoulder blades and bottom. The sounds she’d blotted out were back now—the wind against the window. The ticking of the woodsman’s clock on the wall.

  “Jace?”

  He lifted his head, and in the flickering light, his warm, groggy gaze stroked hers. “What?”

  Suddenly feeling vulnerable and uneasy, she wondered what he thought of her now—wondered if he thought she did this sort of thing often. Dear God, they hadn’t even taken the time to find a bed or make it back to the couch. “We need to get dressed.”

  His breath stirred the hair at her temple, his voice amused. “Why? Are you expecting company?”

  “Please,” she whispered. “I need to get up.”

  Brow lining, Jace raised his head to search her troubled gaze, then touched his index finger to her lips to silence the thoughts he saw in her eyes. “Shh,” he said softly. Then he took his finger away and replaced it with his lips.

  Even though she returned his kiss, Abbie’s heart dipped a little. He really did want to stick his head in the sand and pretend that one taste would be enough. But no matter what he wanted, she needed at least some acknowledgement of what “hadn’t” just happened between them.

  “And after tonight?” she whispered when he met her eyes again. “No expectations? Jace, I…I don’t want to be a convenience while I’m here.”

  His gaze cooled for just an instant, but then he seemed to understand. Nodding, he repeated her words as though he were making a pledge. “No expectations.”

  Several minutes later, as Abbie adjusted the spigots in the shower and stepped inside, she felt their wordless parting even more deeply. She’d wanted to tell him she’d had a wonderful time—that he’d been wonderful. And she’d wanted to tell him that the pleasure he’d given her had eclipsed anything she’d ever felt with Collin. She wanted to tell him, too, that she didn’t sleep around and that she’d never made love on a floor before, and was almost embarrassed by her behavior. Almost. But he hadn’t wanted to hear those things, maybe because if she opened up, he’d have to, too, and he didn’t want that kind of bond with her.

  Swallowing, she squeezed peach body wash on a puffy net, then smoothed it over her shoulders, the rushing water making it foam. She could still feel…everything.

  But now it was time to stop feeling and find her common sense again, remember that this—this thing they had for each other—was only physical. It had no substance, no future, and could not happen again. She’d been lucky this time, she realized. It was a safe time in her cycle and there was very little chance of her getting pregnant.

  Still her thoughts roamed like lost waifs, wondering what would’ve happened fourteen years ago if she’d stayed—not returned to college. Would they be together now? Married, with babies?

  Probably not. He’d never said it outright, but she suspected that he wasn’t the marrying or the family kind. He obviously wasn’t seeing anyone on a steady basis. No phone calls had come in, and no explanations had been made for her living here with him. Besides, if he had a steady, what “hadn’t happened” between them tonight wouldn’t have. He was far too honest to cheat.

  And t
hey were both far too smart to think this selective amnesia plan of his would work.

  Anything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong the next day. A fully loaded rig heading for a customer in Ohio had broken down on Interstate 80, slowing a special delivery; a saw had gone to hell and logs being cut for a new sale had shown signs of mineral discoloration. Naturally, the weather man had chosen this day in mid-March to send north central Pennsylvania late-June temperatures.

  If that wasn’t enough, Abbie had been on his mind all day.

  When he walked into the quiet office just after quitting time, his nerves were shot. Dear God, what if she was pregnant? He couldn’t begin to imagine how much a baby could change his life. What did he know about raising a kid? There hadn’t been a whole lot of role models waltzing through Jillie Rae’s trailer when he was young. Carl Parrish had stepped in when he was twelve, but it wasn’t the same as having a father figure from birth.

  Then there was the other thing. The disturbing thing he hoped he’d never have to deal with.

  As he approached the men’s restroom near the back office, the door to the women’s opened and Abbie came out, smoothing lotion on her hands. The smell of peaches filled the hallway.

  “Hard day?” she said, the previous night’s uneasiness still in her eyes.

  “Not one of my best.” Suggesting that they pretend nothing happened between them had been sheer lunacy. Every time he looked at her, he remembered everything they’d done and wanted more. “Just give me a minute to wash up, then I’ll drive you to your dad’s house so you can drop off his mail and do the daily walk-through before we head to my place.”

  Leaving the door open, he strode inside, turned on the spigot and soaped his hands. “Ty called a few minutes ago. He and Pete started cooking the sap around noon, so we won’t be up all night. It takes quite a while.”

  The phone rang.

  “Ida’s gone home,” Abbie said from the hall. “Do you want me to answer that?”

  Jace sent her a sidelong glance. “No, let the machine get it. If it’s important, I’ll take it. If not, we’re closed.”

  The flirty feminine voice that breached the silence had Jace quickly reaching for the paper towels, and sidestepping Abbie to get to his office.

  “Jace, it’s Carol. I just got in and saw your business number on my caller ID. I was out of town on a buying trip. Why didn’t you leave a mess—”

  Jace snapped up the phone. “Carol,” he said, dropping the paper towels on his desk. “Hi.”

  “So you are there. I tried you at home first, but there was no answer. What’s up?”

  What had been up was a gut-gnawing need for female attention, but he’d broken the connection after only a few rings because he knew calling her had been a mistake. He hadn’t wanted Carol; he’d wanted a woman he’d had no business touching. He swore silently, once again damning caller ID when Abbie walked into the reception area.

  They had no claims on each other, and last night “hadn’t happened.” So why did he feel like he’d broken a damn vow or something?

  But Carol was waiting for an answer, and he came up with a half truth. “It wasn’t important, Carol. Just a spur of the moment thing. I need a gift for my foster mom sometime before Easter, and I wondered if you carried porcelain teapots at your shop. She collects them.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I’m sure I have a few. Any special pattern? I could look around, maybe box a few up for you to choose from.”

  Jace declined her offer. He needed to get back to Abbie. “Thanks, but there’s no rush. I have four weeks yet. I’ll just drop by sometime.”

  “Great,” she said, her voice upbeat again. “My door’s always open.”

  “Thanks,” he returned, knowing it wasn’t open only for him. Carol Sheridan was a pretty, fun, no-strings woman who enjoyed dating and paled at the idea of commitment. Still, there’d been times when he’d thought she might change her mind if he pushed for more. “See you sometime before Easter.” Then he hung up and walked out to the reception area where Abbie was straightening the sitting area and coffee station in the corner near the door.

  As he approached her, he tried to hide his discomfort behind a carefree tone. “All set?”

  “Sure.” She looked up from arranging packets of sweeteners and stir sticks in the basket, then sent him a seemingly unconcerned smile and preceded him to the door. “You feel uncomfortable about that phone call.”

  Instantly irritated, he said, “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do, and there’s no reason to be. You don’t have to feel guilty if you’re seeing someone.”

  Silently counting to ten, he set the locks and they walked to his Explorer. “I don’t feel guilty, and I’m not interested in Carol.”

  “She’s interested in you.”

  Jace felt a nerve leap in his jaw. “And I suppose you got that from the six words she said on the machine.”

  “No, I got that from the way she purred your name.”

  “Could we not talk about this anymore?”

  “All right, but if you want to see her—or anyone else, for that matter—just do it. What ‘didn’t happen’ between us last night didn’t put a ring on either of our fingers.”

  He nearly said, “damn straight,” but he knew commenting would only prolong the discussion, and he wanted it— and the knot in his stomach—to go away. Squeezing the remote on his key chain, he sprung the door locks, opened the passenger’s door for her, then shut it when she was settled in her seat.

  The Fates hated him, he decided. After a hellish day, he should’ve been looking at a great night. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  It was nearly midnight when they finished cooking down the sap, and thirteen sealed jelly-size jars of maple syrup were lined up on the picnic table under the pavilion. The temperature had only fallen into the fifties, and the sweet aroma of hot maple syrup still hung in the air. Abbie moved to Jace’s side as he placed the jars in a cardboard box to make them easier to carry. Ty and their staff forester had each taken a jar home, and there was a partially filled margarine container in Jace’s refrigerator that he and Abbie would sample soon.

  At the edge of the pavilion, a few coals still glowed between the stacked concrete blocks holding the long grates they’d used to cook on. The pots they’d used had already been washed and put away for another year.

  “You didn’t get as many jars as you thought,” Abbie said.

  “No, but there’ll be enough for us, Ida, and a few pancake breakfasts over at Betty and Carl’s when they get back from Florida.”

  She nodded. She’d been glad for Ty and Pete’s presence tonight. Being busy with other people had helped them get past that phone call, and the disturbing jealousy that had been so hard for her to hide. She had hidden it, though, despite the fact that there was no logical reason for it.

  She was just lonely, that’s all, she told herself. And it didn’t help that whether he was boiling sap or troubleshooting problems at the mill, Jace was a walking, talking remedy for what ailed her.

  “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

  “Yes,” Abbie answered, reining in her thoughts. “It was fun. Not at all what I expected.”

  “Oh? What did you expect?”

  “I’m not sure. Work, maybe.”

  But what they’d had was an intimate little party in the woods. And oddly, the thick stand of pines, maples and beech trees hadn’t given her pause tonight. She’d felt safe. The big coffeepot had been going all night, and they’d grilled hamburgers and hot dogs on one end while shallow pans of sap bubbled on the remainder of the grates. Pete had seen that country music kept playing and they never ran out of donuts. And Ty…Ty was friendly and fun as she’d held the cheesecloth filter and he’d poured the thickened syrup through it into the clean containers.

  Now it was time to go in.

  Taking the blue-and-white flecked metal coffeepot from the grate, Abbie added it to the box containing th
eir mugs and the remaining donuts, then picked up the carton.

  “I guess there is some work involved,” Jace said belatedly as they carried the cartons to the house. “But I look forward to it every year. I’m not sure why.”

  Abbie knew why. It was a down-home, wholesome tradition—a family event that spoke of love, roots and camaraderie, and paved the way to warm buttery syrup breakfasts at Betty and Carl Parrish’s house. It was the kind of life he’d never known growing up in Jillie Rae’s trailer and deep inside of him, Abbie knew he needed it. As for her own needs… She kept walking along beside him. There was no place for them here.

  She’d barely fallen asleep an hour later when something woke her. Uneasy, she sat up and listened hard. The scraping sound came again. Her pulse sped up as bloody crime scene photos and cold blue eyes fired her imagination.

  Bolting from the sofa bed and leaving the lights off, she left the room and hurried through the hall to the great room. Jace was just descending the steps from the loft, bathed in moonlight pouring through the long plate-glass walls.

  Bare-chested and wearing loose gray string-tied sweatpants, he spoke quietly. “I know. I heard it, too.”

  After a quick glance at her short dorm shirt, he shifted his gaze to her face again. “It’s probably nothing—just an animal. Stay away from the window. I’ll get a flashlight.”

  She was about to say, What if it isn’t an animal? when she saw the automatic handgun he held. It only startled her for a moment. Hunting and fishing were big here, and most local businessmen were granted protection permits to carry concealed weapons, her father included. Laurel Ridge didn’t have L.A.’s crime rate, but there’d been a few attempted robberies as the day’s business receipts were taken to the bank.

  When Jace returned from the kitchen with a flashlight, he was wearing the boots he routinely left by the back door. “Stay here,” he said. “I really don’t think it’s anything, but if there’s trouble, call 911.”