A few steps up, there was another.
This one had a tear streaking down her face.
In the hall, she was lying on her side, her cheek pillowed on her hand, her eyes dark and shadowed—lonely eyes—and she looked every bit as hurt and lonesome as he felt.
More large prints. Every one added to the lump in his throat.
Damn it. Why in the hell hadn’t he come home last night? He grabbed the phone from the clip at his waist and dialed her number. It rang and rang as he followed the trail into his bedroom.
The letter on his bed had him hanging up the phone. He’d just drive out there.
You seduced me, too. But I started loving you a long time ago. Will you forgive me?
The wording…he narrowed his eyes, thinking of something else. The gifts from the spa, in particular. The card…
Taking the note, he folded it and tucked it into his pocket as he jogged back down the stairs. He was already out the door and hadn’t even glanced at his answering machine, totally unaware of the messages that had been left from the airport.
It was nearly an hour later when he got to Charlestown from Anchorage, Kentucky. Her truck was in the drive and a few lights were burning, although he didn’t see anybody moving. With the key he still hadn’t returned to Tessa, he let himself into the house, licking his lips nervously.
But the total stillness of the house told him within seconds she wasn’t there.
With a scowl, he pulled out his phone again and buzzed her cell phone.
Out of service.
So he called Tessa and Caleb.
“Hey,” he said without preamble when Caleb answered. “It’s Marc. You have any idea where Blush has disappeared to?”
“Ahh…last I heard, she was disappearing to your house. That was last night,” Caleb said slowly. A hidden laugh was in his voice and Marc could all but see the mirth in the man’s eyes as he asked, “She didn’t trash it, did she?”
“No. No…lemme talk to Tessa.”
“Hello?”
“Tessa, where is Blush?” Marc demanded.
“Why, hello, Marc. I’m wonderful, and you? It was a rather demanding day, wasn’t it? Yes…I enjoyed a wonderful relaxing dinner with my husband and he was in the middle of a delightful back massage when you called. And now that you mention it, it has been a few hours since I heard from Val…but no, I’m not worried. I know exactly where she is. And if you had but listened to me, you’d know where she is too!” Tessa chirped into the phone.
But Marc heard the underlying stone in her voice. He winced. Okay, so maybe he had been a little rude to her at work. “Look, Tessa, I’m sorry. I know I was rude. I apologize.”
“Hmm. Well, have a good night!” And the phone slammed down in his ear.
But he wasn’t about to let it go that easily. Resolutely, he dialed the number again. She pleasantly said, “You know, I tried six times, to tell you something about Valery. Do you know that? Six times! She may have been a stubborn idiot, but considering what she was dealing with, sometimes I don’t blame her.”
“Tess, honey, just tell me where she is,” Marc pleaded, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. “I just need to see her. I need to talk to her.”
Maliciously, Tessa purred, “Scotland.”
Scotland.
The phone was making that annoying out of service noise in his hand by the time Tessa’s words finally made sense in his head.
Scotland.
Blush was in Scotland.
Marc fell back on the couch and flung an arm over his eyes, a moan of abject misery rising in his throat.
Scotland.
Scotland called to her. It always had. She trudged up the stairs to her room, her bag heavy on her shoulders, muffling a yawn behind her hand. A week left.
And then it was back home.
She had talked to Tessa three days ago. And Valery was proud of herself. She hadn’t mentioned Marc. But damn it she had wanted to. Did he hate her? Did he still love her?
Had he forgiven her?
But Valery was the one who needed to ask him those questions. Then there was the fight that still lingered between her and Tessa. The apology had been made, but Valery had behaved badly and until she was back in the States, and could throw her arms around Tessa…well, it just felt unresolved.
And Tessa had acted…odd on the phone.
Was she still mad at her for how she had behaved toward Marc?
She slid the old-fashioned key into the lock and turned it, shoving with her hip at the same time. Oh, yeah. Her employer had really gone all out on the digs with this hotel. Actually, though, it wasn’t that bad. So what if it took a little body language to get the doors to open?
And it took some more body language to get the doors to close—and then sometimes the water didn’t want to come on without a lot of swearing and cursing.
And then there was the couple next door, newlyweds, who had to fuck every night. That just added to the ambiance.
But it was a decent hotel.
The rooms were bigger than normal and the beds…damn, the beds were amazing—no wonder the newlyweds couldn’t control themselves—downy soft feather beds almost as big as a lake, with warm, handmade quilts, fireplaces in each room, and a Scottish breakfast every morning.
There was a traditional Scottish dinner each night, as well. But Valery had already tried haggis once, and she had no desire to ever try it again.
The claw-footed tub was calling her to the bathroom and Valery dropped her stuff in the corner, stripping out of her clothes, sighing with pleasure as she freed her hair from the braid she had confined it in.
“Well, that’s a pretty picture.”
She froze.
Slowly, she lifted her head and stared at the man standing in the far corner, cloaked in shadow.
Her lips parted soundlessly. Licking them, she whispered, “Marc?”
His grin was a white slash in his dusky face. “It took me a while to catch up with you. After a whole day spent just convincing Tessa to tell me where in Scotland you were.”
She knelt and fished her shirt out of the pile at her feet, tugging it on. “What are you doing here?” she asked gruffly, folding her arms across her chest, blinking away the stinging in her eyes.
His eyes drifted down to watch her pull the shirt on and a self-deprecating smile curved his mouth. “Well, I came looking for you,” he said quietly, kicking at the floor with a booted foot. “Can’t say that seeing you pulling clothes on in front of me does a hell of a lot for my psyche though. Not after you’ve spent several weeks getting naked in front of a camera for me.”
She flushed and looked away.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered, pushing away from the wall and moving to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he lifted her chin and kissed her slowly. “Don’t look away from me, Blush, please don’t.” Then he groaned, the sound like that of a starving man suddenly offered a feast, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, his hand fisting in the curls at the back of her head, holding her still.
Tears leaked out from under her eyes and she whimpered, reaching up and wrapping her fingers around the wrist that still cupped her chin. The pulse under her fingers beat strong and true, and against her belly, she could feel his cock pulsing.
Slowly, he pulled away, his lips moving to lick the tears on her cheeks. “I love you,” he murmured, returning to her lips to murmur that gently. “I could have told you that from the beginning, but I didn’t know how. I’ve loved you for years.”
She giggled. Then her arms came up around his neck and held tight. “Damn it, Marc. You bastard. I love you, too.” She pressed her lips against his and held him, whispering roughly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I didn’t think you’d end up loving me, didn’t think you could. I was protecting myself, I guess, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her over to the bed and tossed her onto it. Her squeal was lost under his lips as
he joined her there seconds later and whispered, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”
Join The Newsletter
Look for Shiloh’s Latest…
Ruined
One of the Barnes brothers, Sebastien has always felt blessed. Not only does he have an amazing family, but he’s become a Hollywood golden boy who has everything he’s ever wanted—with one exception. He’s had a thing for Marin since he was a kid, but when he finally summons the courage to ask her out, she turns him down. Marin is ready to settle down, she wants commitment and stability, and Sebastien is still too much of a playboy, caught up in the wild life of the spotlight.
Still reeling from the rejection, Sebastien’s luck runs out later that night when he saves a girl from an assault. The shining knight role fits him just fine, but his armor—and his perfect life—become tarnished when the near-deadly attack lands him in the hospital. Physically scarred, he gives up acting and retreats from everybody.
If anyone can pull Sebastien back from the abyss, it’s Marin. But first she has to convince him that beauty is not only skin deep…
Read More
About
Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy under her penname, J.C. Daniels. You can find her at Twitter or Facebook. Read more about her work at her website. Sign up for her newsletter and have a chance to win a monthly giveaway.
One Night with You
Bonus Story
Chapter One
How could a simple look make her feel like that?
Shifting around in the chair, Bo hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous she was. False hope—Logan always seemed to know how she felt. He always had. But she could pretend, right? Pretend that she felt totally comfortable in the dark, quiet Lexington restaurant with its flickering candlelight and soft music. Pretend that she didn’t feel self-conscious in the red silk that draped her body. Pretend that she knew how to handle the looks he kept giving her.
If she faked it long enough, maybe she could actually convince herself it was all true. That she knew how to wear silk and sip wine and smile a sexy little smile at the gorgeous man staring at her. But she didn’t think it was going to happen.
Bo was more comfortable wearing jeans and a tank top while she worked a photo shoot. She’d rather the silk be on some bone-skinny model she saw through her camera lens instead of on her. She’d rather be riding through rain and snow on her dad’s ranch and taking pictures of a newborn foal—even helping to deliver it. She’d take the blood and gore and afterbirth or dealing with demanding models and demanding agents. She’d take those experiences any day of the week over this one.
At least she knew how to handle those.
“You don’t have to look so nervous.”
Bo didn’t see the point in lying. She looked at Logan and smiled a little. “I’m not used to this kind of place, that’s all.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the complete truth but that wasn’t exactly lying, was it? Because there was no way she was going to tell Logan that he was the real reason she was so nervous. He had a bad habit of making her feel like she was still the skinny teenager she’d been when they had first met instead of twenty-one years old.
Logan glanced around and smiled a little. “I thought about going to the Roadhouse but they don’t have crème brulee.”
Even though her belly was pleasantly full from dinner, the thought of crème brulee had her mouth watering. “You got me,” Bo said with a grin.
“You and your sweet tooth.” The waiter showed up and Bo sipped her wine in silence while he ordered. Just one dessert.
As the waiter walked away, she looked at Logan and cocked a brow. “I hope you don’t think I’m sharing.”
His pale brown eyes dropped to her mouth and that nervousness returned. “I’m not hungry for dessert.” Bo thought the look on his face said the opposite. He looked like he was starving but she had a weird feeling he wasn’t interested in food.
He was hungry, all right but food was the last thing on his mind. Well, maybe not the complete last thing. He could picture up some very worthwhile fantasies involving the crème brulee and Bo’s mouth.
Watching her eat the rich dessert had him as hard as if she had reached over and wrapped her hand around his cock. Of course, just watching Bo do anything did that. She could be sitting at a table doing yearly taxes and he’d be hard. But the look in her eyes when she had taken that first bite…her lashes had fluttered closed and she had moaned like a woman on the brink of climax.
That thought only made his problem worse. He was dying to get her out of here, get her someplace where he could see how she really sounded when she came. Get her someplace quiet so he could strip that red silk away and touch her… And if he kept thinking like that, he was going to be stuck in this chair for a while.
He had plans for the rest of the night and they didn’t include sitting here waiting for a hard-on to subside.
Another soft hmmmmm of pleasure escaped Bo’s lips and Logan’s control snapped. He reached for his wallet and dug out a couple of bills. The waiter saw him and started in his direction but Logan had no desire to wait for him. Bo looked up at him as he stood over her chair. The fork was still between her lips. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was doing it on purpose when she slowly slid it out, taking time to lick it clean. She glanced down at the dessert in front of her and said, “I’m not done.”
“Too bad. The way you are with sweets, you’d lick the bowl clean if I let you,” Logan growled. He pulled the chair back and held out a hand. When she stood, he pulled her up against him and slid an arm around her waist. Their gazes met and held as he lowered his mouth.
She tasted of the rich, decadent dessert, wine and heat. Sheer, unadulterated heat. Desire and hesitation, curiosity and want—there were a million contradictions in her kiss and it was enough to drive him mad. Control snapped. He could feel it, all but hear it in the little cracking noises as she leaned into him. One fisted hand lay against his chest, clutching the lapel of his suit. Through the layers of clothing, he felt the warm weight of her breasts, the soft little curve of her belly—
“Ahem.”
Logan tore his mouth away from hers and looked at the waiter. “Shit,” he muttered.
Bo’s spiky black lashes lifted, revealing smoky gray eyes fogged with desire. She moaned a little and leaned toward him again for just a second. Then it was like she realized where they were. She blushed, the soft pink flush starting at the low neckline of her dress and spreading upward to her face.
Without saying a word, Logan took her hand and led her out of the restaurant. Home hadn’t ever seemed so far away.
The drive to the old farmhouse where Logan lived normally took thirty minutes. This time, it took him less than twenty, speeding most of the way, the gas pedal nearly pressed flat against the floor. “Are you in a hurry?” Bo asked as she looked out the window.
He just glanced at her.
In the faint light coming off the dash, he saw her eyes widen, watched as her lips parted and she licked them nervously. Moving too fast, he told himself and he wasn’t thinking about the speed limit either. Slow down. Slow down.
When he got to their street, instead of taking the long winding drive to her house, he took the shorter paved one to his. Bo glanced over her shoulder toward her home but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid. At least he hoped not. Logan had a little more control than that. He thought.
He hoped.
But when Bo accepted his hand a few minutes later, Logan knew he was kidding himself. He helped her from the car but once she stood in front of him, he didn’t let go. Instead, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over her soft palm and stared at he
r.
Her heart-shaped face tipped up so she could look at him. Thick black lashes framed a pair of wide, misty gray eyes. She’d cut her hair. Once, her thick black hair had fallen nearly to her waist and Logan had had a hundred dreams where that hair had fallen around them while she straddled him and rode him through orgasm after orgasm. A thousand dreams where he fisted his hands in the thick silk.
It was short now. Spiky short, a little longer on top, with a tousled look. It suited her. Even he had to admit that, though he still daydreamed about how she would look, kneeling in front of him, that silky hair falling around her shoulders while she took his cock into her mouth.
Logan stared at her as he trailed the fingers of his other hand up her other arm, over her shoulder. He pressed the flat of his palm against the soft skin of her collarbone, his thumb resting in the delicate notch at her throat, his fingers curving over the slope of her neck.
Her lashes drooped low, shielding her eyes from him. He wanted to see them. Had to see them. Had to know if he had even half the effect on her that she had on him.
“Look at me, Bo.” Her lashes lifted and he found himself lost in the smoky, innocent seduction he saw in her eyes. His hands tensed. He moved into her, his weight pressing her up against the side of his car. Her mouth opened as his came crashing down on hers.
He swallowed the ragged groan and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Under his hand, he could feel the pulse in her neck. It beat against his palm—wild and erratic. He kept that hand pressed against her neck and skimmed the other up her side. When he cupped her breast, Bo’s pulse kicked up a little and she gave one soft, erotic little groan before arching into his hand.
Bo had once shot some pictures of a tornado as it cut through the Kentucky countryside. The wild power of it had been exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. The destruction it left behind had been heartbreaking. If you threw some fire into the mixture, that just might sum up how it felt having Logan touch her. Exhilarating, terrifying, seductive and destructive. He had one hand at her neck, the other cupping her breast and the heavy, solid weight of his body pressing into hers.
Silk Scarves and Seduction Page 8