Or she thought it had, until this moment.
“Don’t you agree, dear?”
“Agree?”
“That Shane will be a wonderful daddy?”
Bernadette was right. “Yes,” Angie answered. He would be a wonderful father, but it wouldn’t be to her child.
She lost the rest of her appetite and didn’t respond when Bernadette scolded her for eating like a bird.
After paying her bill, Angie huddled against the cold and hurried back to her car. The more she thought about Shane, the more she realized she needed to get back to Chicago and her real life.
Must be something about the town, she decided. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen at this altitude that made her forget everything except the fact she and Shane worked together incredibly well and that he was a sexy man and she still desired him….
She drove home on the slick roads, trying to block out images of Shane cradling his child the way she’d seen Nick hold his.
Big, fat flakes still drifted from the sky, and more were promised. She slid through an intersection and was wishing for summer by the time she reached the Victorian.
Inside she heard a steady drip, and she followed the sound to the upstairs bathroom. Angie groaned. The roof was leaking again and the bucket she’d positioned had spilled over. Much as she hated to call Shane, she needed his advice.
Trying to still her racing pulse, she looked up his name in the directory and dialed his number.
After four rings, the answering machine picked up.
As she debated whether or not to leave a message, another large drop of water splashed into the bucket, then onto the floor. The moment she started speaking, he answered.
Just the sound of his voice, rich and thick, chased fresh goose bumps up her arms.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
She wound her finger into the phone cord. “My roof is leaking.”
“At the center?”
“No, at my aunt’s house.”
“When did it start?”
“I noticed it yesterday morning.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It had stopped this morning, so I thought—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Shane, really, I’m sure it’ll be okay—”
“Ten minutes.” With that, he hung up.
While she impatiently waited, she brewed a pot of coffee, cleaned up the water mess, turned up the heat a few degrees and looked out the window half a dozen times. She saw the headlights of Shane’s four-wheel-drive vehicle in nine minutes.
She answered the door, saying, “I appreciate your coming over, but it really wasn’t necessary.”
“Yeah, I know.” He stamped his feet, flinging snow on the porch. He shucked out of his coat at the same moment she closed the door. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing her shoulders as he bumped into her.
It was okay, except for the fact she could no longer think. Since their kiss she’d been hypersensitive to him, every nerve ending on a low simmer of awareness.
For a second neither said anything, and she heard the pounding of her own heart. She wished she hadn’t turned up the heat, because the house suddenly felt like a tropical rain forest. “I made coffee.”
He nodded. “Where’s the leak?”
“Upstairs bathroom.”
Shane released her and she escaped to the kitchen. Even though she didn’t want a cup of coffee, she poured one for herself and one for Shane. Holding it would occupy her hands.
She started toward the stairs the moment Shane started down them.
“You can’t stay here.”
“It’s not that bad.”
He raised a brow.
“Is it?”
“How long has it been since your aunt had her roof replaced?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Come here.”
Mouth dry, she followed him up the stairs. The bathroom seemed much smaller with Shane’s large body filling it.
He pointed to the ceiling and she slid both mugs of coffee onto the vanity. “See that huge water spot?”
She nodded.
“The ceiling is sagging. Pack enough clothes for a couple of days.”
Her mouth gaped. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can have my bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”
She shook her head. “I’m staying here.”
“Not until I’ve fixed the problem.”
“The leak isn’t that bad.”
He folded his arms across his chest, and his dark green eyes flashed determination. “You’re coming home with me. Pack a bag, or I’ll pack it for you.”
“Forget it, Shane.” She folded her own arms and stood her ground. “This is my decision.”
“It’s my responsibility,” he countered. “You called me. In my professional opinion, the roof is structurally unsound. I won’t gamble with your life.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
The determination in his eyes became a dare. “Pack a bag, Angie.”
“Not interested, thank you.”
With a curt nod, he reacted, swallowing the distance to her bedroom in a handful of strides.
Angie was hot on his heels. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He yanked open the closet door and grabbed a small bag. “Taking you home with me.”
“You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a couple of pairs of panties and a bra and started tossing them into the bag. She grabbed his wrist, insisting, “Stop that immediately.”
He seared her with his gaze.
She shivered.
“You’ve got two choices, lady. Pack this damn bag or I’ll pack it for you.” Even with a pair of her silky panties hooked on his thumb, he’d never looked more serious.
“If it doesn’t stop leaking, I’ll go to the Hot Springs Resort tomorrow.”
“Heard the weather report?”
She felt the rhythmic and strong beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips.
“Five more inches of snow,” he said quietly. “Know how heavy that is?”
Darn him, he had a point.
“The roof could come down while you’re in the bathtub.”
She could be persuaded with logic, but not by his domineering male act.
When he spoke again, his voice had softened, and despite herself, her resistance waned. “Do it for your aunt. She’d be devastated if something happened to you.”
Would he? she wondered. “You’re right,” she said, letting go of his wrist.
“You’ll finish packing?”
If it got him out of here, away from the bed, she’d do anything. “Yes.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
“I’ll drive my own car.”
“Fine. I’ll still wait.”
She nodded. He dropped her panties on top of the bra and left the room, and his clean, crisp scent still stamped the air.
Angie sighed. What had she gotten herself into with Shane, and how would she survive being at his house?
Ten
The storm had frozen his brain cells. No doubt about it.
Shane punched his pillow. He’d had enough of Angie after her car accident. So why the hell had he insisted on bringing her back here?
Damn his sense of responsibility, anyway.
He thumped the pillow again, ignoring the nagging voice that whispered he hadn’t helped her because of a sense of responsibility. He’d helped dozens of women in the past. But he hadn’t brought one of them to his house, let alone insisted they sleep in his bed.
Angie had called him for help and he’d charged off, simple as that. All that was missing was a white horse.
There was something about the core of vulnerability that she tried to hide behind a veneer of independence. Shane wondered if he was trying to prove to her that she needed him as much as he desired her.
Hardhat slunk a couple of inches clo
ser to the fireplace’s dying embers, and Shane pulled off his shirt. Maybe the night air would help cool his heated skin.
Giving up the battle, he succumbed to a sleep haunted by images of his ex-wife.
Moments, or hours later, he woke up to see her standing near the back of the house, at the sliding glass door, staring into the stormy night. Grabbing his shirt, he swung his legs off the couch and moved toward her. “Angie? What are you doing?”
Jumping a bit, she turned to face him, her palm pressing against the pulse in her throat. “Hardhat wanted to go out.”
“Hardhat?”
She smiled a little, dropping her hand. “I think he got tired of trying to wake you up.”
So much for Shane’s protective instincts…
Hardhat pushed his nose against the door and barked once. Angie let him back in, then wrapped her arms beneath her breasts. The motion stretched her long cotton gown taut, revealing her thickened nipples. Shane’s throat was suddenly parched.
The glow from a dim lamp silhouetted her feminine form, and he couldn’t help but notice her pink-painted toenails peeking from beneath the hem of her gown. Her hair framed her face, loose and free, making him wish he’d been the one to muss it up.
The open neckline of her gown had exposed part of her upper chest, and Shane couldn’t help but notice the creaminess of her skin. She was every bit as alluring to him as she’d been the first night they’d made love, five years before.
He wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. If he started, he wasn’t sure he could stop.
“Sorry the mutt woke you up. Thought he had better manners than that.”
“I couldn’t sleep, anyway.” She met his gaze. “You can have your bed back, if you’d like. At least one of us should rest.”
“I told you, the bed’s yours.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You don’t like anyone telling you what to do,” he stated.
“No.”
“Not even when it’s for your own good.”
“Especially when it’s for my own good,” she replied. “Sorry we disturbed you, Shane. Go back to sleep.”
He should. Rational thought told him exactly that. But he didn’t.
When she started to move past him, he captured her upper arm, stopping her. “Tell me why, Angie.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“You weren’t this way when we were married.”
“What way?”
“Distant. Distrustful.”
She looked at him and said, “Experience.”
He heard the bitterness she tried to hide. “You refuse to listen to anything I say.”
“I like my independence.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” she snapped back.
“Then why didn’t you want to come here?”
“Because you demanded it. You didn’t ask what I wanted. You assumed you knew what was best.” She moved his hand from her arm. “I swore I’d never answer to another man again.”
“Swore? To whom?”
“To myself.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and reluctantly let her move away. It was one of the hardest things he’d done. He wanted answers, wanted to understand.
She moved toward the window, and he saw her shiver.
Needing something to do, he started a fire and drummed his fingers on the mantel as he struggled to find some patience.
“You still may think I left willingly, that I wanted to marry Jack Hague, but I didn’t.”
His jaw tightened.
She turned and faced him. “You asked, Shane. Do you want the truth, or do you want to forget you asked?”
She tipped her chin back. “I can go either way,” she said. Her blue eyes flashed with fire, and he had no doubt this wasn’t the same woman who’d left him.
“Give me the truth.”
“Jack and I fought the day I got back to town. He told me to take off the aspen leaf. I refused. That set the tone for our relationship.”
“You kept it on while you were married?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you made love?”
“We didn’t.”
His mind swam. “You didn’t make love?”
“No.”
He felt as if he’d been knocked in the back of the head with a two-by-four. “Never?”
She pulled back her shoulders, but he saw telltale flushes of red highlighting her cheeks, showing him she’d been hurt, despite her determination to hide the truth.
“In three years of marriage, you never once made love?”
Angie shook her head. “Even though Jack knew I wanted children.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“He said we might have kids, eventually. But first, he’d have to learn to trust me. You see, I’d betrayed him with you.”
His chest constricted. “You weren’t engaged to him when you moved here.”
“I knew it was my dad’s expectation, but I’d never agreed. Dad never told Jack that you and I had married.”
He heard the catch in her voice as she continued. “When he saw the aspen leaf, he asked about it. I told him about you, our life together, and he called me a whore, said I’d betrayed him. Luckily for me, he said, he wanted the business deal badly enough not to let the fact I was soiled goods stand in the way.”
Soiled goods? Raw energy churning in his gut, Shane paced the living room. For the past five years, he’d been focused on his own pain, on her betrayal of their vows. He’d never really believed she hadn’t had any options. Until now, he hadn’t calculated the cost to her.
Maybe she wasn’t the woman he’d believed her to be. Maybe she wasn’t as cold and callous as he thought….
She put her hands to her face for a second, before looking at him. “I spent my marriage trying to atone for a sin I didn’t realize I’d committed.
“Jack led me to believe that we’d have children, as long as I toed the line he drew. He told me he didn’t want me working—said it would be better for our children if I raised them myself. I agreed with that, but I couldn’t handle shopping and doing nothing all day, so I got involved with a couple different children’s charities.”
“I saw you with the kids at the community center.”
“I love them all.”
“Yeah. It shows.”
“That’s the best thing that came out of my marriage. But now, looking back, I can’t believe I allowed him to dictate my life.” She shook her head. “I was an idiot. He told me what to do, and I did it. I tried to make the best of my marriage. I figured I was stuck with it and intended to honor my vows.” Unwaveringly she fixed her gaze on him. When she spoke again, there was underlying steel in her voice. “No matter what you believe about me, Shane, I didn’t walk away from you.”
“He punished you.”
“Yes.”
He plowed his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of it all.
But she wasn’t finished. “At Jack’s funeral, I came face-to-face with his mistress and their ten-month-old baby.”
He stopped pacing and ground his back teeth.
“He gave her what he’d never given me.”
Without conscious thought, he crossed to her.
“Marcy said he was a good dad to his son, said that Jack intended to include them in his will and make Jack Junior his heir when my father died.”
Her voice had changed, becoming hoarser, and Shane felt a corresponding softening in his heart. He took her shoulders in his hands and held her gently.
“Ironic, isn’t it? He believed I betrayed him. You believed I betrayed you. And the only thing I ever wanted to do was the right thing.”
A gentleness he was unfamiliar with overtook Shane. He stroked Angie’s hair, feathering the silky strands away from her cheeks, then cradled her face. He’d spent the last five years thinking. Now he simply felt.
She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. They telegraphed honesty. Eyes w
ere a window and they never lied; he knew that.
“There’s never been anyone but you, Shane.”
Passion, as deeply emotional as physical, flared in him. He claimed her lips, tasting and taking.
She didn’t just respond; instead she met his kiss with a demand.
She grabbed at his shirt, shoving the material from his shoulders and dropping it to the hardwood floor.
He pulled at the satin string holding her gown closed.
Her hands were on his chest, her fingers tangling in the scattering of soft hair, then moving downward.
Their kiss deepened, and their tongues thrust against each other’s in a simulated love dance.
She tugged at the snap holding his jeans closed. He sucked in his breath when she found the zipper. She started to pull on the small tab, and he instantly hardened.
He ended the kiss. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded raw when he said, “I want to see you undressed.”
“You, too,” she said.
His pulse surged. He snagged her gown and drew it over her head.
She stood before him, her back to the hearth. The firelight flickered off the golden highlights in her hair. “You’re lovely.”
“Your turn,” she said.
In seconds, he’d undressed, dropping his clothes in a pile near hers.
He heard her breath hitch, and his manhood pulsed in response.
He dropped to his knees in front of her and cupped her buttocks, then placed a kiss right below her belly button. Her hands dug into his hair. He moved slightly lower and kissed her once more, then again, lower still. When her knees buckled, he caught her and eased her down beside him. “Open your legs for me.”
She did, and he placed a hand between her legs, touching her. With a gasp, she leaned closer to him and his finger slipped against her flesh. She was moist and he could no longer wait.
“Now, Shane,” she said.
“Here?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
In seconds, he’d lowered her to the floor and propped a pillow beneath her head. He paused before entering her, looking at her expression and again realizing he was her only one.
Emotion shuddered through him. This time, there was no past, no regrets, and he held nothing back as he made love to her like he hadn’t since the day she left.
One Snowbound Weekend... Page 12