by Larissa Ione
“Were you afraid you’d hurt me?” she asked.
Reseph stared down at her hand, his thumb making slow sweeps over her fingers. “Not… intentionally.” He raised his gaze, his eyes burning into hers. “And that’s what scares me. I acted without thinking. I don’t know myself. I don’t know anything and I think I might be crazy.”
Once, while Jillian had been getting ready to come on shift at the air traffic control tower, she’d watched a small private jet crash on the runway and burst into flames. In sickeningly slow motion, she’d seen movement inside the craft as the passengers tried frantically to get out. The helplessness Jillian had felt still haunted her today, and now a similar feeling was squeezing her heart. She had no idea what to say or do to make things right.
“I wish I could help more,” she said softly.
“Are you kidding?” Reseph reached up, stroking his warm fingertips over her cheek in a tender caress that startled the hell out of her. “You’ve done so much already. If I live a thousand years I won’t be able to repay you.” His thumb traveled along the line of her jaw as he held her with his gaze. She didn’t even consider stepping away from him. The hypnotic current running between them held her fast.
How could she be so attracted to a freaking stranger? Then again, she’d experienced instant attraction to her ex-fiancé when she’d first met him, albeit nothing like what was going on with Reseph. And then Jason had proved that men could remain strangers even after you’d been in love with them for a year.
The memory was a much-needed splash of cold water, and she stepped back from Reseph.
“You don’t need to repay me. I haven’t done anything any decent person wouldn’t do.” She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood a little. Or to at least get her pulse back to normal. “Now, why don’t you get some sleep? You can take my bed.”
One blond eyebrow popped up. “Will you be in it, too?”
“Ah, no. I’ll take the couch.”
He shook his head. “If I can’t be in the bed with you, I want the couch.”
The man was impossible. “You won’t fit on the couch. Trust me, I’ll be fine there.”
“Nope.” In a heartbeat, he leaped over the sofa’s armrest and sprawled out on the cushions, legs hanging over the edge, hands behind his head. “Mine. You can’t move me.”
So neener-neener. “You’re like a big child, you know that?”
His grin was so disarming that she had to bite back a smile of her own. “There is one thing that can get me to move.”
She folded her arms across her chest and summoned every ounce of stubborness. “No. We’re not sleeping together.”
“I wasn’t planning on sleeping.”
Not only was he impossible, he had no filter, no inhibitions, and no sense of societal boundaries. Maybe he was some sort of overindulged, spoiled prince or wealthy heir. But he hadn’t displayed any of the traits she’d expect to go with an indulged lifestyle. He wasn’t demanding, snobby, or entitled. He just seemed so unguarded and guileless. It was refreshing, really.
Not refreshing enough, however, to give in to his desire to get her into bed.
“I’ll get you some blankets,” she said crisply, and headed to the linen closet, the sound of his soft chuckle at her back.
But a chuckle was much better than a growl.
* * *
Reseph was a huge pain in the ass. But Jillian enjoyed his quirky personality when she’d thought she’d long ago had enough of intense, oddball personalities in her old job. Air traffic controllers were a breed all their own.
So was Reseph. After she’d given him the blankets and pillow, she’d climbed into bed, but twice she’d gotten up to check on him as if he were a child sick with the flu. Both times she found him standing outside on the porch, looking out into the darkness, a silent sentinel in the night. When she’d asked him what he was doing, he’d said he needed to feel the air and open space.
She’d gotten the impression that he felt trapped in the house. Restless. But she’d also gotten the uneasy feeling that he’d been watching for something. What, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
This morning, she let him sleep while she made breakfast, and as she put the pancakes, eggs, and bacon on the table, he shuffled in, bare-chested and with his hair sleep-mussed. God, he was gorgeous in the morning. There was just something extra compelling about a big, powerful man looking slightly vulnerable moments after he woke.
Not that the sleepiness took anything away from the lethal air that surrounded Reseph. She knew now that if the situation called for it, he could snap into battle mode in less time than it took for her heart to make a single beat.
In the light of day, the idea was much less disturbing than it had been last night.
“Hey,” she said, and he gave her a drowsy smile that made her head swim.
“Hey.” He regarded the table, and his eyes lit up. “Sweet. I love bacon. And pancakes. And eggs. All my favorites.” His smile grew wider. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, but I’m glad you did.”
“It’s nice to be able to cook for someone.” She took a seat and gestured to Reseph’s plate—which she’d placed across the table from hers. He moved it and sat down kitty-corner from her. “My friend Stacey stays over sometimes, so I cook for her, but she’s the only one.”
“Stacey?” He scooped some eggs onto his plate, and she tried not to get distracted by the way his biceps moved under his smooth, deeply tanned skin. “Is she hot? Like you?”
Heat flushed her cheeks. “You just say whatever you’re thinking, don’t you?”
“Nope. If I said what I was thinking right now, you’d throw your plate at me.”
He was probably right. She eyed his muscular chest and ripped abs, and her body hummed in appreciation. Well, maybe he was right.
“So this Stacey,” he said, as he loaded his pancakes with butter and syrup. “Do you see her often?”
“Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t be alone.”
His answer surprised her. “You think I need protection from something?” Like maybe whatever he’d been looking for on the porch. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
“Oh, hell, no. I saw you with the rifle.” He glanced over at her, and his voice went a notch deeper. “It was fucking hot. I love a badass female.”
She laughed. “I love being called a badass.” She regarded him with curiosity as he took a huge bite of eggs. “So why shouldn’t I be alone?”
“Because you’re a good person. You should share that with people who need someone like you in their lives.” He reached for his glass of juice. “Like me. Thank you again for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” Her pulse picked up at both the compliment… and from guilt. The road had been cleared this morning, and she was thinking about taking him to the sheriff’s station. Why she should feel guilty she had no idea. Maybe it was because a good person would keep him.
Keep him… as if he were a stray dog. Nice. If he were a stray dog, she would keep him. But he needed help she couldn’t provide.
And she couldn’t afford to get attached.
They ate in silence for a minute, which was all it took for him to finish off six pancakes, as many eggs, and half a pound of bacon. Finally, he came up for air.
“Can I use your computer?” he asked. “I want to see if I can find anything that might help me figure out who I am.”
Her pancake sat like a paperweight in her gut. “Actually, I’m taking you into town today. I’m hoping we can get some help at the sheriff’s station. First, you need some real clothes, so we’ll hit Bernard’s department store.”
“I promise to pay you back when I find out who I am.” He lounged back in the chair, looking sated. Content. But no less dangerous. Like a tiger that had just fed. “I must have money somewhere.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to take care of the animals, and we’ll go after that. Feel free
to use the shower if you want.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she prepared herself for a suggestive reply. “I’ll help you with the chores tonight, though, okay?”
Well, shit. She’d have preferred one of his overtly sexual suggestions. She offered him a shaky smile, because she wasn’t sure he was coming back with her. He didn’t belong here, and there was a perfectly good shelter where he could stay in town while the police figured out who he was.
She took care of the critters at the barn and chicken coop, and by the time she’d gathered a dozen eggs to drop off at the Wilsons’ place down the road and got her truck warmed up, Reseph was ready. She wished she had shoes for him, but he didn’t seem to care. He merely hopped into the pickup’s passenger side and played with the radio, settling on a country music station as she drove the thirty miles into town.
“I don’t know why,” she said, “but I’d have taken you for a rock and roll guy.”
“Seems my brain is full of country lyrics. Not so much with the rock.” He tapped his fingers on his thighs to the beat of the music and studied the landscape as though he were mapping every tree, every fence post.
“You people know how to decorate,” Reseph said, when she turned the truck onto Main Street. “It’s like we’re at the North Pole.” He shifted around in the seat so he was lounging against the door, one leg up on the bench as if he had moved in and belonged right there next to her. Damn, but she could not be thinking that way. “You need Christmas decorations in your house. And a tree.”
She eased the vehicle around an icy corner. “Seems kind of pointless.”
“Don’t you like the holidays?”
“I love them. But when it’s just me and Doodle, there’s not much point in doing all the holiday stuff.” Stacey always invited her to her family’s place for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it really did seem like a waste of time to decorate her own place. She pulled up to the department store and shut down the engine. “Why don’t you stay here while I run in and get some clothes for you?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Reseph climbed out of the truck. Didn’t matter that he was shoeless and in pajamas… he ignored the curious stares and walked inside with her. The man didn’t have an ounce of self-consciousness. But then, as big as he was, she doubted people messed with him much. And as hot as he was, she’d bet he could get anything he wanted from women.
As soon as they walked through the door, Tanya, one of Jillian’s old high school classmates, greeted them. Her gaze lingered long enough on Reseph to make Jillian clear her throat.
“Hi, Tanya. Obviously, we need the men’s department.”
Tanya pointed toward the back of the store. “You might want to hit the shoe department first. It’s against policy to allow bare feet in here.” She smiled at Reseph like she was picturing him with a lot less on than shoes. Ha. Tanya couldn’t even begin to imagine the truth of what Reseph looked like without clothes on. He was see-to-believe. “We’ll make an exception this time.”
Reseph grinned back, and Jillian did not like that. She grabbed his hand and led him to the shoe department, where he picked out a pair of black work boots. Which looked absolutely ridiculous with the too-short pajama bottoms. Still, he didn’t seem to notice at all.
Next, they hit the men’s department. “Well, what do you like?”
He looked around at the racks of clothes and shrugged. “Pick something out for me.”
“Dress you?”
He waggled his blond brows. “Or undress me.” Now there was the Reseph she was getting used to.
“I think we’d have an audience for that,” she said, glancing over at Tanya and two other employees who were not-so-covertly watching Reseph.
Leaning into her, so close his breath fanned over her cheek, he said in a low, silky voice, “That’s what dressing rooms are for.”
Oh, the images he’d just conjured in her head. She had to clear her throat before she could speak.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” Not waiting for a response, she pulled two pairs of distressed jeans off a Big and Tall rack and shoved them into his hands. Next, she wandered through the shirts and settled on a black tee, a light blue thermal Henley, and a flannel charcoal button-down. “Let’s see how these fit.”
“All three?”
“You need more than one set of clothes.” When he opened his mouth, she shook her head. “Don’t argue. I don’t expect you to pay me back.”
He glared, but wisely, he sauntered into the dressing room without a fight. Maybe he was partly house-trained after all.
Tanya sidled up to Jillian the moment Reseph disappeared. “Who is that? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No, he’s just a…” A what? Friend? Acquaintance? Perfect stranger? “Guest.”
“Yeah?” Tanya’s eyes were glued to the dressing room door. “I’d love to have a guest like that.”
“Your divorce is final, huh?”
Tanya nodded. “Now if I can just get that rat bastard to pay child support, the drama would be over.”
Jillian wished Tanya luck with that. Her ex had kids with two other women he was supposed to be paying child support to, and apparently, that wasn’t happening, either. Men could be such scum, and that was something Jillian knew far too well. They never turned out to be who you thought they were. No doubt Tanya’s husband had seemed like a decent guy when she married him. Now he was a cheating bastard who fathered two children outside of their marriage.
“Oh. My. God.” Tanya’s breathy words brought Jillian’s attention back to a man who, as far as she knew, wasn’t a cheating bastard.
Reseph had emerged from the dressing room, and Jillian’s tongue rolled out like a welcome mat. The jeans she’d chosen fit like they’d been tailored for him, hugging his muscular thighs and bunching around his big boots. The Henley, perfectly matching his eyes, stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, emphasizing the hard-cut muscles and flat stomach. This was a man who made normal, everyday clothes into something special. He was a walking fashion ad… except that no other man would buy those clothes, because no one could wear them as well.
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive rumble.
“Think?” Tanya whispered to Jillian. “I lost that ability about five seconds ago.”
Jillian had, too, and she licked her lips to buy some time for her brain to kick in. “You look great, Reseph.”
He stomped his foot and flexed his shoulders. “I don’t like them.”
“We can look for something else—”
“It’s not that. It’s clothes in general. I don’t like them.” He frowned. “Maybe I was a nudist?”
“Sweet mother of hotness,” Tanya whispered. “What magical island did you find him on? I’m booking the next flight.”
Well, that fired Jillian’s imagination, and for a moment, she pictured herself lounging at a tropical resort, where all the men had big, muscular bodies… and walked around nude.
And they all looked like Reseph.
“Sadly, we have to wear clothes in our society,” she said, resisting the urge to fan herself at the sudden hot flash. “Did all the shirts and jeans fit?”
He gave her that panty-melting smile of his. “Yep. You have a good eye.”
The compliment made her ridiculously giddy. “Okay, now socks and underwear.”
“I don’t wear underwear.”
Jillian’s throat went so dry she couldn’t even swallow. She imagined popping open those jeans and having him right there, ready for her touch.
What the hell? She’d never been so inflamed by a man. Oh, she knew lust, knew how good sex could be, but with Reseph, it was as if the switch for her libido was stuck in the on position, and all attempts to shut it off were failing.
Somehow she found her voice, but it was thin and embarrassingly squeaky. “You sure?”
Looking down, he slid his palms over his hips and butt as if feeling for underwear lines, and when his long, tapered fi
ngers brushed his fly, Tanya let out a strained moan.
“Pretty sure,” he said, looking up.
“Okay, then.” Jillian was on fire, her heart thudding out of control in her chest. Socks. He needed socks. Socks weren’t sexy. “We’ll grab you some socks and toiletries.” She turned to Tanya. “Can he wear the clothes out?”
“Of course.” Tanya looked Reseph over like he was a steak and she was starving. “We’ll just have to get creative with scanning the tags.”
Creative. Uh-huh. They grabbed a package of socks and various toiletries, and at the checkout counter, Tanya definitely took advantage of the fact that Reseph was wearing some of the clothes she needed to scan. Jillian was pretty sure he didn’t have a tag down the back of his pants, and after enough of Tanya’s fondling, Jillian found the tag herself… on the outside of the waistband.
Reseph was amused by the whole thing, but Jillian had to admit that while Tanya’s attention made him grin, it was Jillian’s touch that made his eyes darken with heat.
She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. No, she was sure. He needed help she couldn’t give him, so he had to go. Nothing good could come of getting attached to a man with no past.
“Now where to?” he asked, when they climbed into the truck.
“The feed store, and then the sheriff’s station.”
Going taut, he swallowed, turning his sober gaze on her. “What if they find out I’m someone… bad?”
“They won’t.” She started the engine.
“You sure?”
No. “Yes.”
He said nothing more as they drove to the feed store, and in the two minutes she’d spent paying for eight sacks of grain, he had them stacked neatly in the back of the pickup. He was waiting for her at the tailgate, elbow propped on the top, one booted foot crossed lazily over the other.
“I noticed the floor of your barn storage space gets damp,” he said. “I can use some of the fallen logs behind your house to build a platform to keep the grain off the ground when we get back.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I can’t run a dishwasher, but for some reason, I think I’m handy with old-fashioned tools.”