He didn't say anything. He just stood there, with his mouth almost touching hers, so close that his breath warmed her lips. Anticipation coiled in her belly, the same anticipation of the other night when he'd kissed her. Only this time it was broad daylight, they were both sweaty, and they'd both had twenty-four hours to think about why it wasn't a good idea. Was he going to kiss her again?
She realized that she fervently hoped so.
God, she wanted one more moment of being kissed by him, one more moment of being wrapped up in his arms, one more moment of being desired by a man so sexy that she could barely breathe at the thought of his mouth on hers.
"No." The word was a whisper against her mouth.
She swallowed. "What was the question?"
"You said, 'do you not want to have sex with me?' The answer to that is no."
She frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. "No, you don't want to have sex with me, or no, I'm wrong in thinking that?"
"You are very, very wrong." His lips whispered over her cheeks, not quite kissing, but definitely brushing over her skin. "I've been thinking all day about taking that incredibly appealing mouth of yours in a kiss that would last for hours. I've been imagining pressing your body up against a wall, and sliding each item of clothing off, one by one, as I learn every curve of your body." As he spoke, he took a step forward, pressing her against the wall. He bent his head, and brushed a kiss over the curve of her neck. "I've been remembering what you smell like, a combination of vanilla with a hint of some sort of flower. Like heaven bottled up and saved just for me, because at some point in my life, at some point that I don't even know about, I did something good enough to deserve one brief oasis in your presence."
"Oh, my. That was beautiful." She leaned her head back against the wall, her hands on his shoulders as he pressed a kiss, and then another one, and then another one, along the same collarbone that he had been tracing with his fingers such a short time ago. "Kissing me like this is probably inappropriate, given that we barely know each other."
"Yep." He kissed her jaw, his lips so gentle and tender that tears suddenly burned in her eyes.
He froze, then pulled back, searching her face. "Why are you crying?" His question was kind though, not irritated and disgusted like she would've expected, like she was accustomed to.
She shook her head, and took a deep breath, embarrassed about her vulnerability. "I'm just not used to a guy being so nice. I'm not used to one who actually kisses me as if he wants to. It just…" She shrugged. "I guess I'm just not as tough as I like to think I am."
"I think you're plenty tough." He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, then stepped back, releasing her. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. "Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away trying to make you believe me when I said that I did want to make love to you. Just because I'm trying to be honorable and a good guy, doesn't mean that my brain and my libido don't go places that aren't quite so honorable." He grinned and held up the bottle of wine. "So, let's just have a drink, and keep the kissing at a minimum."
Chloe nodded, trying to pull herself together. God, she hated that she was so vulnerable. She didn't want to be like this. "Okay," she said, mustering up a smile. "That sounds good." She wiped the back of her wrist over her forehead, grimacing at the dust that felt caked over it. "Do you mind if I take a couple minutes to grab a shower? I promise I'll be quick. I just feel super grimy, and since you're apparently going to stay for that drink, I'd rather feel at least moderately decent about my hygiene level."
He grinned. "I was actually thinking the same thing about myself." He lightly touched the front of his shirt. "I'm pretty ripe." He cocked an eyebrow, a decidedly mischievous expression that made her belly tighten in sudden anticipation. "You have a hose I could use? I have clean clothes in the truck."
"A hose?" She couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. She'd thought he was going to make some inappropriate and incredibly tempting suggestion about showering together. Nice to know she was so skilled at reading the situation, right? Yeesh. "You want to hose yourself off like a car?"
"I'm used to a lot worse, so hoses are no big deal." A mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes. "Given the fact that we're not going to make love tonight, I thought it might make you uncomfortable if I was stripping naked to use your shower."
Of course, the minute he said it, she had a sudden image in her mind of him being completely naked and getting into a shower. She had a clear visual of his broad shoulders, the rippling muscles in his stomach, and the way his hips narrowed, leading into the corded hardness of his thighs. And, of course, like the sexually deprived female she was, her mind went right to that area between his cute belly button and his dominating thighs, where the dark hair curled around the part of his body that made him a man...
God. What was she thinking? Heat burned in her cheeks, even though she knew there was no way Blue could be reading her mind. However, when she saw the amusement in his eyes, she realized that was exactly what he was doing.
She immediately poked him in the chest. "You did that on purpose to try to make me think of what you look like naked?"
"Of course. Did it work?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes."
"How was it?"
She grinned, unable to resist his sense of humor. "It was fantastic, actually. I seriously doubt you'll be able to live up to it in real life, so that's another good reason for us not to make love today. I wouldn't want my amazing fantasy to be destroyed by reality."
"Damn. I totally blew that one, then." He didn't look remotely contrite, however. "Probably best to abstain, for the reasons we already discussed. But damn, it would be nice to at least have you thinking about how great I look naked." He pulled up his shirt, revealing abs every bit as cut and defined as the ones in her fantasy. He patted his stomach. "See? It's not that bad. Definitely not the stuff of nightmares."
She grabbed his shirt and yanked it back down. "Put that away. It's dangerous. If you aren't careful, we're going to tear our clothes off, and then we'll both be emotional disasters, and who needs that?"
"Yeah, I don't need to add to the amount of mudslinging already in my own head." There was something in his tone that made her amusement fade, something real and heavy, and suddenly the mood changed back to that dark, intense connection that they had had the night before.
"You can use a shower," she said quickly. "I'll restrain myself from running in there and ripping off my clothes to join you." There was no way she was going to make him hose off in her yard, regardless of how accustomed he was to living accommodations of that level. Or maybe, because of the fact he was accustomed to that kind of living accommodations.
The sparkle in his eyes seemed to dance. "How many showers do you have?"
"Three."
"Only one? Damn. We could share it, I guess. Be more efficient."
"I said three."
"I know, but one sounded better."
She burst out laughing. "Didn't we just agree no nakedness?"
"Yeah, but the dishonorable side of me is hard to shut up."
She laughed again, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a very long time as she pushed him back. "Go get your stuff. There's a shower on the first floor. I'm going to use the one up here."
Mischief glinted in his eyes. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Now go."
He made a sad face that was so pathetic that she started laughing again.
She was still laughing when he turned away to head down the stairs...and then he grabbed her wrist, tugged her back toward him, and kissed her, enveloping her mouth in a kiss so intense that she sank into him immediately. He slid his fingers through her hair, angling his head while he deepened the kiss. His lips were soft, and the whiskers on his chin prickled in a decidedly sexy way.
It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back, his green eyes searching hers. "Damn, Chloe."
It wasn't what he said, but more the raw intensity and a
we in his voice when he said it. Her heart tightened, and she realized that for all his toughness and teasing, on some level he was as vulnerable as she was. She didn't know what to say, because the moment had somehow become more than words.
He apparently was in the same situation, because all he did was stand there for a moment, his fingers buried in her hair. Then he shook his head, his lips pressed in a line, before releasing her and jogging down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs he turned and looked back at her. He paused, as if he were going to say something, but then he just shook his head again, and disappeared toward the front of the house.
Chloe sagged back against the wall, and closed her eyes. Her heart was racing, her lips were tingling, and all her senses were humming with awareness. Who was she kidding? Did she really think it was possible that she was going to whip out a couple wineglasses, and they were going to sit on opposite ends of her deck and have polite conversation until he finally said good night?
If he stayed for a drink, something was going to happen. She didn't know what, exactly, but it was sure to be something intense, emotional, and probably physical. Something that was going to jerk her ruthlessly off the fragile foundation that she had just managed to erect. Did she really want to do that? Did she really want to take that chance? Was she really brave enough and strong enough to open that door and not lose herself?
She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. She knew it would be a mistake not to kick him out. She knew it would be a mistake to kiss him again. She knew it would be a mistake to open herself up to this man she barely knew, who had all sorts of shadows haunting him, a man who was as transient in this town as she was. She knew, with absolute certainty, that getting into that shower and heading downstairs for a glass of wine with him was a mistake.
Suddenly, she heard the first floor shower turn on. The water pipes clanked and groaned as they rushed to the bathroom that hadn't been used in so long.
Blue had clearly decided that he was staying.
Chloe opened her eyes and looked at the doorway to her temporary bedroom, across the hall. Shower? Or run away?
She took a deep breath, then levered herself off the wall, and started walking toward her bedroom. As she walked, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.
Shower.
Chapter 10
The pizza box had been reduced to an empty, abandoned cardboard canvas decorated with grease spots. The wine bottle was empty, and the last remnants of wine barely covered the bottom of their glasses. They had been sitting out on Chloe's back deck for hours, watching the sunset.
It was long gone now, and the dusk had faded into evening.
Blue lounged back in his chair, watching Chloe's animated expression as she finished telling a hilarious story about an escapade in college when she tried to sit on the edge of a trashcan, only to have it tip over, winding up with her wedged in it with her feet and hands sticking up into the air, completely stuck. As she recounted the incident, her eyes were sparkling, her hands were expressive, and she seemed utterly delighted to share stories of her failures as a social goddess.
As he'd been doing almost constantly for the last few hours, Blue found himself laughing aloud, thoroughly wrapped up in her stories. As she finished, however, she fell silent, a silence that stretched between the two of them.
Blue didn't have to look at his watch to know what time it was. It was time for him to leave. He had been there for hours, and the conversation had been lively and engaging. But it was late, and he knew it was time to go.
He didn't want to leave. He felt relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in a very long time. He wasn't thinking about his work, his mental stability, or the shadows that had chased him his whole life. He was simply, completely immersed in the experience of being on that deck, of seeing the sunset through Chloe's eyes, of listening to the birds, of breathing in the scent of hot pizza.
He'd never met anyone like Chloe. She was so cognizant of her surroundings, appreciating and noticing each little stimulus that brought her joy. Just as he had become so aware of the pink flowers because she had noticed them first, he'd seen more colors in the sunset than he ever had in his life. He'd heard the sound of birds that he'd never noticed before. He'd even felt the warmth of the setting sun on his skin. Every experience was heightened because of Chloe, because she noticed the beautiful nuances and pointed them out.
Chloe set her wineglass on the dusty coffee table that they'd found on the back deck. She glanced over at him, and he could see the restlessness on her face. She was ready to be done, clearly having reached the limit of her ability to entertain him. "So," she said, stretching her arms over her head. "I was thinking —"
"Why did you become a social worker?" he asked quickly, interrupting her before she could suggest that he leave. He just couldn't drag himself away. The thought of going back to that tiny cabin and sitting alone in the darkness felt overwhelming. When he'd gotten off the roof after working all day, that isolation had sounded like an oasis to him. But after being around Chloe all evening, that cabin suddenly seemed like a darkness that would swallow him up forever. "It's clear how much it means to you. I could tell that you cared about getting Mattie and Robbie adopted by Emma and Harlan almost as much as they did."
She glanced away from him, almost as if she was trying to avoid his question. "I don't know. I guess I just fell into it."
Her evasiveness struck a chord with Blue. That was the same kind of answer he gave when people asked him why he'd gone into search and rescue, specializing in kidnappers. "Liar," he said gently. There was something she was hiding, something deep, something that drove her in everything she did. He wanted to know what that was. He wanted to know what had formed this vibrant, funny, and warm woman.
Her gaze slithered back toward his, but she shook her head. "Don't you have any sense of social boundaries? I think I just made it pretty clear that I was only interested in giving you the superficial answer."
He grinned at her honesty, something he was already getting used to expecting from her. "Yeah, but I give the same kind of answer when people ask me why I went into search and rescue. It means there's more shit going on." He set his wineglass down on the table and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees as he leaned toward her. "See, here's the thing. I don't actually like people. I don't like to be around them. But from the first moment I met you, something about you drew me in. I want to be around you. There's something inside you that sees the parts of me that I don't show anybody. Isn't that right? You see things about me no one else sees."
Chloe's gaze settled on him more steadily, as if she was no longer trying to avoid his intensity. "I see shadows in your eyes," she said quietly. "I feel them in my heart. What are they?"
At her question, Blue suddenly hesitated. He'd been trying to get her to open up. He hadn't actually meant to turn the direction of the conversation toward him, but now that he had, he felt somewhat obligated to give at least a partial truth. "Someone I knew was kidnapped when I was younger. I saw what everyone went through, the suffering when their loved one was gone. It was hell. I wanted to be the one to be able to fix that." It might not be the entire truth, but everything he said was accurate. It just didn't dive all the way to the bottom of the murky, toxic pool where the full truth lay hidden and rotting.
Chloe's face softened, and she reached out, setting her hand on his knee. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "That must've been terrifying for you to go through as a boy."
"I wasn't the one who got kidnapped," he clarified quickly. "I don't need sympathy."
She cocked her head, however, studying him. "Who got kidnapped?"
Blue stood up, and paced to the edge of the deck. He gripped the railing, his fingers digging into the old wood as he stared blankly out at the dusky sky. Shit. How had he let the conversation go in this direction? This wasn't what he'd intended at all.
He heard Chloe stand up, and he tensed as she walke
d across the deck to stand beside him. She braced her elbows on the wooden railing and propped her chin up in her hands. He waited, his mind flying as he tried to figure out how he was going to avoid answering her. There was no chance he was telling her the truth. No one knew the truth. Not Renée. Not even Harlan.
But she didn't say anything. She just stood there beside him, leaning on the railing.
After a long moment, after several moments, he began to relax slightly. Her arm was less than an inch from his. It was the closest they'd been since earlier in the night when he'd kissed her. When she'd been sitting in that chair, with her feet up on a stool, laughing and chatting easily, it had been comfortable. Friendly. Easy.
But now that they were standing next to each other, it was different. He was so aware that all he had to do was slide his hand to the left an inch, and his fingers would be against her elbow. If either of them turned ninety degrees, they would be facing each other, only a few inches apart. He could feel the heat from her body. He could hear the softness of her breathing. He could smell her shampoo. He was a man who made a living on being aware of every single sight, sound, and smell at every moment, or rather, he was aware of everything that affected his safety. His senses were highly evolved, because he'd spent a lifetime focused on survival. Those heightened senses that were so useful in dangerous situations made it impossible for him not to notice Chloe as a woman.
"The reason I became a social worker focusing on foster kids is because I was a foster kid." Her voice was soft, so quiet it was as if she didn't really want to put those words out into the night.
She had spoken only one sentence, but Blue could feel the extreme depth of emotion behind those words. Her voice was scratchy and raw, as if merely thinking about her childhood brought back the numerous tears she had surely shed. He immediately turned to face her, but she didn't look at him. She was staring at the dusty sky just as he had been doing only moments before.
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