Snowbound Bride

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Soon they were talking about everything and anything, including the most intimate and rudimentary details of their lives.

  “You know how and why I went into law enforcement,” Sam told her after he put some soft music on the stereo. He returned to her side and, now that they were finished with their meal, poured them both some more wine. “What I don’t know is how and why you happened to go into advertising.”

  Nora smiled as she turned her glance toward the snow and sleet pouring down outside, draping their entire world in a frosty white coating that left them feeling all the more warm and cozy cuddled inside by the fire. Thinking how handsome he looked in jeans and a casual sweater that brought out the golden-brown in his eyes, she sipped her wine and settled com fort ably into the sofa cushions opposite him. They were turned so that they were facing each other, but close enough that her bent knee was pressed com fort ably against his rock hard thigh.

  Nora sighed contentedly. She rested her bent elbow on the high back of the sofa, and propped her head on her upraised hand as she regarded Sam over the rim of her wine glass. “I always preferred the commercials to the programs.” He lifted a brow, intrigued, prompting her to confess smugly, “By the time I was four, I could dance and sing the jingle to every product in my mother’s shopping basket.” The playfulness of his glance warmed her from head to toe and sent a curious thrill through her. Setting her glass aside, she propped a hand on her hip and regarded him with mock indignation. “I can see you find that hard to believe.” Sam flattened a hand across his chest comically. “Did I say that?”

  “You don’t have to,” Nora replied dryly, knowing him well enough to realize where his thoughts were headed. “Not to worry, though. We can easily put my outrageous claim to the test.”

  “How?”

  “By playing name that jingle, of course.”

  “What’s the prize?” Sam’s eyes darkened with mischief.

  “Whatever you want, if you win. Whatever I want, if I win.”

  Sam put his own glass aside and regarded her with a smile that let her know that when it came to games and one-upmanship in a battle-of-the-sexes way, he was every bit the competitor she was. “You’re on, woman.”

  “Okay,” Nora said, trying not to notice how soft and touchable his golden-brown hair looked in the fire light. “I get to go first. You get two clues of any kind about the advertisement in question, and then you have to name the product. Ready?”

  His grin widened speculatively. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay. The 1812 Overture—” Nora hummed a few bars of the famous music “—and a cannon.”

  Sam snapped his fingers in recognition and quickly blurted out, “Quaker Puffed Oats.”

  Uh-oh. Nora regarded Sam with respect. She hadn’t been sure he’d get that one. Now that he had, she wondered what he would claim as his prize. She made a face. “You’re better than I anticipated.”

  “Does that mean I win?” he asked hope fully, turning sideways on the sofa.

  Nora nodded reluctantly, her heart racing at the distinctly sexual intent she saw in his eyes. She wet her lips nervously. “Round one goes to you.” She paused, afraid she already knew the answer. “What do you want for your prize?”

  Sam’s gaze roved her lazily. “Three guesses.” He drew her into the apex of his legs, clasped her against his chest and tilted her face up to his. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was swept up into a kiss that was shattering in its possessive sensuality. He kissed her as though he were in love with her. He kissed her as though he meant to have her. And the taste of him, so hot and dark and male, set off a firestorm of sensation within her. Yearning spiraled through her, and she made a soft, helpless sound in the back of her throat. When he finally lifted his head, her heart was pounding, and there was a definite telltale weakness in her knees.

  “Ready to give up?” he teased.

  “Without a fight? Never.” As his eyes glimmered playfully, Nora put a palm against his chest. “Besides, we digress. It’s your turn to give me two clues.”

  “Okay.”

  It stunned Nora—the commercial expert—to realize that he already had one ready. “Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring—” Sam paused to hum a few bars of the familiar melody “—and a white china plate.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Nora paraphrased the commercial’s slogan triumphantly. “Beef.”

  Sam looked at her as appreciatively as if she were Venus emerging from the sea. “You’re good,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through the silken ends of her hair. “Round two goes to you.”

  “Yes, well, that was easy,” Nora said modestly as she drew a bolstering breath. “It’s current.”

  “What do you want as your prize?” Sam asked.

  “Mmm, good question,” Nora replied playfully, really beginning to get into the game. Determined to outdo the impact he’d had on her, she un buttoned his shirt and smoothed her hand sensually over his chest. The golden mat of hair was soft and curly. Beneath the smooth skin and hard muscle, she felt the racing of his heart.

  Able to see that she was getting to him even more than he’d gotten to her, she drew back. Withdrew her hand.

  “That’s it?” he asked hoarsely. Letting her know with a glance that if it’d been his turn, he would’ve done a whole lot more.

  “That’s it,” Nora said softly. And it had been enough, because just touching him that way—once—had made her want him more.

  His expression tortured, Sam sat back breathlessly. “Okay, your turn.”

  With effort, Nora forced all thoughts of Sam and wild, passionate love making from her mind, and—getting back into the spirit of the game, and out of her increasingly rich fantasies—she hummed a little ditty that had been around for years. “Plus, a man in a T-shirt, carrying a bucket,” she said, when she’d finished the tune.

  “Mr. Clean,” Sam announced triumphantly, moving so that his back was to the sofa and Nora was seated firmly on his lap, facing him. “And it’s my turn to collect,” he murmured as he framed her face with his hands.

  Surprised at his audacity—for there was no way she could not feel the rigid proof of his arousal pressing against her softness—Nora muttered a breath less “Sam!”

  “Ah-ah-ah!” He grinned. “Not until I’ve had my prize.” He aligned their lips with earth-shattering precision and gave her another long, thorough kiss, his hand sliding under her sweater, past her ribs and around her back. And he kept on kissing her until there was no denying the feelings swirling around inside her. She wanted him, needed him, needed this, and that knowledge lent an edge to an already dangerous evening.

  When he released her, Nora realized something was definitely amiss. If she was right in her assessment of the situation, he was definitely very smooth, she decided, as warm sensations gathered in her breasts. “Did you just unsnap my bra?” she asked, deciding just for the heck of it not to immediately rectify the situation.

  “Looks like, doesn’t it?” He grinned mischievously. “And it’s my turn to give the clues. I don’t think this commercial has a song, at least I don’t recall one, but the ad has a little boy named Mikey and a bowl of cereal nobody wants.”

  “That’s easy,” Nora murmured. “Life cereal.”

  “Correct again.”

  Nora studied him, wondering if she should go for the expected—or unexpected—kiss, or more touching, or do something more daring yet. She knew what she wanted. His hands, gently caressing her breasts.

  Sam studied her face. “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now, aren’t I?” he teased softly.

  Nora smiled and said, “I’m just thinking how I’m going to collect my prize.” The decision to be daring made, she took his hands, settled them on her rib cage, beneath her sweater, then wreathed her arms about his neck and ever-so-slowly leaned into him. Their lips met in another free fall of sensation. Then need took over once again, making them both reckless and relentless. He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples into peaks with his thumb
s and forefingers and laving them with his tongue. She caressed his chest. The next thing she knew, they were prone on the sofa. He was lying with one leg draped between hers and kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

  Eventually, she recalled they were supposed to be playing a game. “Whose turn is it?” Nora asked breathlessly as an arrow of fire shot through her and she arched against him, burying her hands in his hair.

  Sam ran a hand down her thigh as he gathered her close. “I think we’re sharing this one.”

  SHARING, indeed, Nora thought as Sam’s lips covered hers once again and she lost her breath at the renewed probing of his tongue. She might be new at this, she thought dizzily as she kissed him deeply and tenderly, but Sam knew exactly what to do. And while she didn’t know exactly what the rest of her life held, right now she didn’t care. All that mattered was that the chance to be with Sam like this might never come again. If she didn’t take advantage of it, she’d regret it forever, and she didn’t want regrets where the two of them were concerned, only sweet, wonderful memories.

  Only this, she thought as everything around her went soft and fuzzy, except for the hot, sizzling pressure of his mouth on hers. With a low moan of satisfaction, his expression fierce with longing and the primal need to possess, Sam cupped her face and angled her head so that their kiss could deepen even more. Her heart pounding, the need in her an incessant ache, she arched against him, her body moving in undulations.

  The fullness of him straining against her thigh, he lifted the hem of her sweat shirt, trailing the soft, cozy fleece across her skin and exposing her rosy-tipped breasts to his rapacious view. He bent his head, his lips tracing a fiery erotic path across the swell of flesh.

  The slow, hot strokes of his tongue across her nipples were unbearably tender, intimate and seductive. Helpless to resist, Nora arched into his touch. She closed her eyes as the fragrance of his aftershave, so brisk and wintry, filled her senses and the sandpapery feel of his evening beard sensually abraded her skin. This was heaven, Nora thought. Certainly, the closest she’d ever come. And they hadn’t even come close to making love!

  “Oh, God, Nora, I want you,” Sam murmured, shifting upward and fitting his mouth over hers again. To know that she wanted him was exciting. To know that she’d surrendered sent him over the edge. “I want you so much,” he whispered breathlessly against her mouth.

  Eager to please him as he was pleasing her, she slid her hands beneath the layers of cotton molding his torso and caressed the smoothly muscled skin of his chest, shoulders and back. His flat male nipples pebbled beneath her palms. Lower still, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed between her thighs. And all the while, she couldn’t believe how he was making her feel. She never wanted it to stop, never.

  And Sam evidently knew it, too, as he tugged off her pants and she helped with his jeans. The rest of their clothing soon followed. She felt deliciously light-headed as he stretched out naked beside her, watching her face as he flattened one hand beneath her hips and arched her lower body close to his. Her toes curled, she was aroused to the point of distraction, and still—still—he was taking his sweet, sweet time, stroking her dewy softness, moving up, in.

  Sam settled over her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her delicate folds. Nora moved to receive him. He pushed upward, gentle and slow, and met unexpected resistance. She tensed as he tried again, even more tenderly, then stopped in shock. Eyes full of wonder and fiercely masculine possessiveness, he stared down at her, knowing, it seemed, what she’d never come out and exactly said. “Nora—”

  Nora didn’t need a crystal ball to know what he was thinking, to know he was about to do the gallant thing. She clutched his shoulders and urged him closer, knowing the moment, the man, were all finally right. Looking into his eyes, she nestled against him, marveling at the need she had created in him, a need she could ease. “Just love me, Sam,” she whispered, knowing she wanted to feel every tremble, every gasp. “That’s all I ask.”

  She clasped the smooth, warm muscles of his back. His body trembling with the effort it took to contain his own pressing need, Sam surged upward, smoothly and deliberately penetrating the final barrier.

  Fulfillment flowing through her, for at last she was finding out what all the books and movies and songs were about, Nora surged against him. “That’s it.” Sam whispered his encouragement, lifting her hips and deepening his penetration even more. “Take all of me, Nora,” Sam whispered, still kissing her deeply, “all of me.”

  She didn’t think she could, and then, suddenly, she had.

  Desire both driving and overwhelming her, she arched up to meet him, new demand welling up inside of her. She couldn’t get enough of him. No one had ever kissed her like this. No one had ever demanded or given as much. Moaning softly, she wrapped her arms around him and urged him on. Her heart soaring—for this was her wildest dream and her most romantic fantasy come true—she closed her eyes as a hunger unlike any she had ever known built inside her.

  Anchoring her against him, Sam moved deeper and deeper inside her, his thorough possession and sweet, invigorating kisses making her want, making her moan, making her need. Until at last their control faltered and all was lost in a blazing whirlwind of mutual heat and release. Nora shuddered, and with a hoarse cry, he surged inside her.

  AFTERWARD, Sam wrapped them in a blanket and cuddled with Nora on the sofa before the fire. He stroked her hair and held her close and thought about seeing her in that white dress. From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he had known she was the kind of woman he could fall in love with, as well as someone very special. She was so beautiful and sensual. Even when she hinted at her lack of experience, he’d had no idea how deep her innocence went.

  Loving the way she snuggled against him, he curved his arm around her protectively and gently stroked her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d never made love before?”

  Nora shook her head, embarrassed. Turning toward him, she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. “It’s going to sound corny if I tell you,” she murmured shyly as she traced patterns in the whorling hair on his chest.

  Sam smiled and gently kissed the top of her head. “That’s okay,” he whispered tenderly, drawing her closer yet. “I like corny. And I really want to know.”

  Nora sighed and turned her gaze to the crackling embers of the fire. “It goes back to something my mother told me when I was growing up,” she said affectionately. “She said making love was the most special thing in the world between a man and a woman, and that I shouldn’t squander it. She said I would know in my heart when everything…the time…the man…the moment…was right, and that I should wait until it was and not push myself into something I wasn’t ready for.”

  Sam smiled as he studied the proud, beautiful contours of Nora’s face. “Wise woman, your mother.”

  “Yes.” Nora sighed contentedly, her body softening all over again as she rolled onto her back. “She was.”

  Sam shifted so that he was looking down into her face. “I wish you’d told me,” he said as he stroked her cheek.

  Nora shrugged and lifted shimmering eyes to his. She paused and bit her lip. “I wasn’t sure it mattered all that much.”

  “You have to know it does,” Sam said hoarsely. For it told him she hadn’t gone into this love affair with him lightly. Nor, for all their talk of flings, had he.

  Nora’s eyes lit with a tender glow, and she gently touched his face. “This was special for me, Sam,” she told him softly. “So very special.”

  Sam buried his face in her hair and held her close, knowing in his heart that Nora was not the only one whose life had been trans formed tonight. “For me, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  SAM LAY AWAKE long after Nora fell asleep. He kept thinking about Nora’s dad. Charles Kingsley’s anguish had really gotten to him. Maybe because he knew that if he was in Charles’s place he would be going out of his mind with worry, wondering if Nora was all right.
<
br />   Sam knew Nora was angry. If all she’d told him was factually correct—and not, as Sam hoped, a misunderstanding that could be cleared up as soon as Nora and Charles hashed things out—she had a right to be ticked off. It still wasn’t right for Nora to worry her father like that—particularly when the snowstorm of the century was raging across the entire north eastern United States. Whether Nora liked it or not, her father deserved to know she was safe, and would continue to be, as long as she stayed in Clover Creek.

  Knowing that his conscience would not let him rest until he acted to calm the fears of Nora’s dad, Sam eased from the bed, grabbed his robe from the hook on the bathroom door and went downstairs.

  Charles Kingsley sighed his relief as soon as Sam finished bringing him up-to-date on Nora’s whereabouts. “Thank you for letting me know she’s all right. I’ll make arrangements to get the reward to you as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t want a reward,” Sam explained patiently, being careful to keep his voice low as he moved closer to the dying embers of the fire. Cradling the phone against his ear, he knelt to add another log. “I’m doing this for Nora. I think she needs to make peace with you more than she knows right now.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Charles replied. “If you could put her on the phone, I’d like to speak with her.”

  As much as Sam wanted to do that, he knew Nora was not ready to deal with Charles. Willing to do whatever it took to protect Nora, Sam said politely, “She needs a little time.”

  Charles sighed heavily. “You know, I lost her mother some years ago….”

  “Yes, I do.” And Sam was sorry about that, but it didn’t change the situation now.

  A poignant silence fell. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose Nora, too,” Charles continued thickly at last.

  “You’re going to have to be patient with her,” Sam advised.