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They moved together, two shadows in the candlelight. And while the storm raged beyond the windows, two souls found something neither of them had been looking for.
Dawn arrived sooner than they would have wanted.
‘‘Storm’s over,’’ Eileen said, knowing Rick was lying beside her, wide-awake.
‘‘Yeah, looks like.’’
Rain dripped from the eaves, sounding like a clock, ticking away the last seconds of an incredible night. The first brush of daylight softened the room, obliterating the light from what was left of the candles. Most of them had guttered out in their own wax hours ago. The last few were unnecessary now.
Eileen winced and shifted position, tugging the edge of the quilt up over her breasts. Though why she was bothering with modesty at this late date was beyond her. There wasn’t one square inch of her body that Rick hadn’t seen, tasted or explored.
She slapped one hand across her eyes and tried not to think too much about everything they’d done together in the dark.
‘‘Regrets?’’ he asked, his voice a low rumble close to her ear.
She thought about that for a long minute. Did she regret any of it? Could she? He’d made her feel things she’d merely read about. He’d made her body sing. No. She didn’t regret it. She was only sorry their agreement had been for one night only. Though it was probably safest that way. She wasn’t going to get involved here and she knew darn well that if she kept sleeping with him, her heart would make the leap whether she wanted it to or not. So in the spirit of self-preservation, she’d stick to the bargain despite the clamoring of her hormones. ‘‘No. No regrets.’’
‘‘You had to think about it, though,’’ he teased her.
Turning her head on the pillow, she looked at him. In the early morning light, he looked just as good as he did in candlelight. ‘‘What about you?’’
He slid one hand up her body, across her rib cage to cup one of her breasts.
She sucked in a gulp of air.
‘‘No regrets,’’ he said, and leaned in close enough to kiss her. Then he pulled away, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.
‘‘So,’’ Eileen said, feeling the loss of his hand on her body, ‘‘now we get up, get showered and move on.’’
‘‘Right,’’ he said.
Boy, that had sounded like a good idea the night before. Now though…she sat up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed, before she could do something really dumb like suggest that they pretend it wasn’t morning yet. ‘‘Night’s over, so we’re finished.’’
‘‘Exactly. Back to business.’’
‘‘Right,’’ she said. She was achy all over. Muscles she hadn’t used in ages were shrieking at her. And still, it was all Eileen could do to keep from turning back around and jumping on to him. She stood up and walked across the room toward the door, snatching up the complimentary plush white robe on the bench at the end of the bed. Slipping into its warmth, she belted it at the waist and paused in the doorway to look back at him. ‘‘I’ll go over to my room, hop in the shower and then meet you in the living room for breakfast in an hour or so?’’
He went up on one elbow, his dark brown hair falling across his forehead to give him a rakish air he wouldn’t have once he was back in one of his blasted suits. Her palms itched to smooth across his chest again. To feel his heart beating beneath her touch. She curled her fingers into fists and shoved her hands into the robe’s pockets.
‘‘An hour,’’ he said tightly, and watched her go.
* * *
Standing under the pulsating jets of hot water, Eileen struggled to clear her mind. To push the night’s memories into a dark corner, where they couldn’t sneak out to taunt her. But it was no use.
Hot, needlelike punches of water beat on her body in staccato bursts from the shower massage and reminded her of his hands on her. Of his mouth. Of his touch. Of the fires he could stoke with a look.
And she ached for him.
At the slide of the curtain rings on the metal pole, she turned in time to see him step naked into the shower behind her. ‘‘Rick—’’
He grabbed her and pulled her close, sliding her water-slick body along his. ‘‘Sun’s not all the way up yet. Night’s not over.’’
She stared up at his taut features, swallowed hard and said, ‘‘Works for me.’’
Turning her around, Rick pressed her back up against the shower wall and lifted her off her feet. Steam from the shower rose up like a soft fog, enveloping them in a small, private world. Water pounded on his back like a heartbeat. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he entered her with one quick lunge that stole his breath. He’d tried to stay away. But hearing the water, knowing she was naked and wet and warm, was simply too much of a temptation to ignore.
Now he moved within her, racing toward the ecstasy that had become familiar during the long night. Burying his face in the curve of her throat, he gave himself to her and took all she had to give.
* * *
An hour later, they were in her bed, having breakfast. Wrapped in the thick terry robes, they shared strawberries, Belgian waffles and hot coffee.
‘‘When does your first client get here?’’ Eileen asked, biting into a fresh ripe strawberry direct from the inn’s greenhouse.
Rick checked the bedside clock. ‘‘About an hour.’’
She nodded. ‘‘Probably a good thing, huh?’’
He looked at her and all he could think was that he wanted to taste her strawberry-stained mouth. His body stirred and even he was amazed. He should be exhausted, yet he felt more awake, more alive than he ever had before. She was like a jolt of pure electricity. She kept his body humming and his blood pumping and he hadn’t had nearly enough of her yet. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he murmured. ‘‘A good thing.’’ Pouring more coffee into both their mugs, he said, ‘‘There are three meetings today and one tomorrow morning.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
‘‘If you want to, later we can go out. There’s an Indian casino near here. We can catch a show.’’
‘‘Sounds good.’’
Rick winced at the stiffness in her voice. Hell, in his voice. ‘‘Look, we don’t have to be this polite and formal with each other,’’ he said, hating the distance springing up between them, even though he knew it was for the best. No point in dragging this on, right? Not when he knew damn well he’d be saying goodbye to her in another week. And he would say goodbye.
That’s what he did.
He didn’t stick around and give women the chance to leave him. Not again. Not ever again. ‘‘We had a good time,’’ he said. ‘‘Now it’s over.’’
‘‘Right,’’ she said, and relaxed back against the headboard. ‘‘We’re adults—neither one of us is committed to someone else. No reason we can’t walk away. We can do this.’’
He smiled at her. ‘‘Just as well we’re not going to be having another night like last one.’’
‘‘Why?’’ She cradled her coffee cup between her palms.
Rick grinned and took a sip of the hot, rich brew. ‘‘When Mrs. Hammond brought the breakfast tray up here, she asked me if I’d heard anything unusual during the night.’’
Eileen’s eyes went wide. ‘‘Unusual?’’
‘‘Uh-huh. Seems that just before the rain started, she heard a loud yelp.’’
She clapped one hand across her mouth. ‘‘Oh, God.’’
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘‘Don’t worry. She thought a coyote had gotten hold of some small animal.’’
‘‘A coyote?’’
‘‘Yeah. Apparently, you hit just the right note to sound like a dying rabbit.’’
She bounced a pillow off his head.
* * *
‘‘Okay, this no more sex thing just isn’t working out.’’
‘‘Yeah, I noticed.’’ Rick rolled to one side of her and lay on his back, struggling to catch his breath.
Lying naked on the braided rug in front of the fireplace, Eileen winced and reached beneath her. She pulled a ballpoint pen out from under her bottom. ‘‘That’s what that was.’’
‘‘Huh?’’
‘‘The pen your last client lost?’’ she asked, holding it up. ‘‘I found it.’’
Rick chuckled, then shook his head. ‘‘What the hell are we doing, Eyeball?’’
‘‘Beats me, Hawkins.’’ Holding the stupid pen, she let her hand drop, falling across her abdomen. ‘‘But if we don’t figure it out soon, we’re gonna end up killing each other.’’
The last client had only left the inn an hour ago and already, Eileen and Rick were naked and exhausted. Sexual heat still shimmered in the air and Eileen felt the first stirrings of need building within her again. Much more of this and they’d be too weak to drive home.
They’d made it through the long day, though the tension between them had been thick enough to chew on. Eileen had taken notes, typed them up and helped Rick draw up the paperwork for two of his clients to diversify their stock holdings. She’d made small talk and tried to avoid meeting Rick’s gaze. She’d felt him watching her as his clients came and went. She’d smiled and visited with the older men who, each in turn, told her what a great catch Rick Hawkins would be. How smart he was. How rich.
Of course, when the talk had turned in that direction, Eileen had actually seen shutters drop across his eyes. As if he was distancing himself from the conversation, even though he had to know the men had only been teasing. She’d had the urge to tell him that he was safe. She wasn’t interested in a ‘‘great catch’’ or any other kind of catch. But in front of his clients, that hadn’t seemed appropriate—and once she and Rick were alone…well, the subject hadn’t come up.
‘‘Well,’’ he said finally, ‘‘our one-night bargain is shot.’’
‘‘Pretty much,’’ she agreed.
‘‘Do we make a new one-night agreement?’’
‘‘That would technically be a two-night bargain.’’
‘‘Fine. Two nights. Whatever.’’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘‘Whoa. Lack of sleep making somebody cranky?’’
‘‘No.’’ He met her gaze. ‘‘It’s not sleep I’m craving.’’
Eileen’s stomach flip-flopped, then did a slow whirl. ‘‘Me neither, big boy,’’ she admitted, then added, ‘‘but before this turns into the Lost Weekend, we’d better have some ground rules.’’
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. ‘‘Rules are good.’’
Eileen chuckled. Now there was a statement on his personality. ‘‘Figured you’d say that.’’
She too went onto her side and lay facing him. Flames danced in the hearth behind him, sending ripples of light around the room and gilding the ends of his hair until he looked almost as if he were wearing a halo.
Rick Hawkins? A halo?
Okay, rules were definitely in order!
Idly he reached out one hand to stroke her breast. Eileen hissed in a breath and let it out again. ‘‘First,’’ she said, a little more loudly than she’d planned, ‘‘no strings.’’
‘‘Agreed,’’ he said, his now-narrowed gaze focused on hers. ‘‘I’m not looking for anything permanent.’’
‘‘Ditto.’’ She caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes and addressed it. ‘‘What? You think every woman you meet is trying to lure you into a bear trap?’’
One dark eyebrow lifted, managing to convey a world of comments.
‘‘You can relax on that score, Mr. Wonderful,’’ she assured him. ‘‘You’re completely safe.’’
‘‘No strings means what, exactly?’’ he prompted, ignoring her last statement.
‘‘I guess it means we enjoy what we have while we have it,’’ Eileen said, and gulped when his talented fingers tweaked her nipple. Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them again and stared directly into his. ‘‘When one of us has had enough, it’s over. Deal?’’
‘‘Deal.’’
‘‘Shouldn’t we shake hands on it?’’
A corner of his mouth tipped up. ‘‘Oh, we can do better than that.’’
The rest of the weekend was a blur.
A good blur, but a blur.
On Sunday afternoon, Eileen walked into her house, left her small, rolling suitcase in the foyer, then dropped onto the worn overstuffed sofa. Its soft down-filled cushions came up around her like a warm hug. Propping her feet up on the mission-style coffee table, she scraped both hands across her face and tried to figure out how she’d work a temporary affair into her world.
God, she hadn’t planned on this. Who would have guessed that Rick Hawkins would be the man who could light up her insides like a Christmas tree? And who would have thought that a two-week favor to her grandmother would turn into…she dropped her hands onto her lap. Turn into what? What exactly had happened? One red-hot weekend?
Because if that’s all it turned out to be, a part of her would be sorry. She didn’t really want to get involved with anybody, but on the other hand, it had been a long time since she’d been with a man. A long time since she’d felt…close, to anyone. And damn it, she’d enjoyed it. Not just the sex, she thought, though she had to admit, Rick had a real gift in that area, but it was more than that. It was laughing with him. Talking to him. It was midnight meals and napping in front of the fire. It was long walks on windswept hills and hearing him try to explain the securities market.
It was a lot of things she hadn’t expected.
She hadn’t felt anything remotely like this since just before she’d broken off her engagement to Robert Bates. Frowning, Eileen grabbed one of the green plaid throw pillows and hugged it to her chest. He’d been her college boyfriend. Pre-med when she met him, they’d made plans for the future. Eileen had planned their wedding, their marriage and even how many kids they’d have—three—two boys and a girl. And then at graduation, Robert had suggested they not get married right away. Instead, he wanted her to go to work. They could live together, he’d said, and she could support him while he finished med school. Then, if the time was right, they’d get married.
Sighing, Eileen let her head fall back against the cushions. ‘‘But the time was never going to be right,’’ she muttered, remembering the look of surprise on Robert’s face when she came home early from work one night. Of course, the girl he was on top of was pretty surprised, too—but it was Robert’s expression that had stayed with her. Not hurt, not defeated or even guilty. Just angry. Angry at her for not being at work, like the good little cash cow he’d expected her to be.
She’d grabbed up as many of her clothes as she could and walked out, leaving Robert and his floozy right where she’d found them. That was the last time she’d trusted her heart to anybody. And she’d vowed then that she wouldn’t do it again.
‘‘But this is different,’’ she argued to the empty room. ‘‘It’s not my heart involved here…just my hormones.’’
Her own words echoed in the quiet and even she didn’t quite believe them. But she would. All she had to do was keep reminding herself that this whole situation was temporary.
‘‘Yeah,’’ she said, pushing up from the couch. ‘‘That’ll work.’’
Seven
