Can't Fight This Feeling (31 page)

Was
this
the sign she’d been waiting for?

* * *

A
NGELICA
’
S
AWESTRUCK
SURPRISE
evaporated any embarrassment Brett might feel over the cheesy banner. Still, he jabbed a thumb toward it and said, “London’s idea.”

Big brown eyes shifted to his face. “Really?”

Angelica still appeared gobsmacked. It pleased him but also made him want to kick his own ass. Why hadn’t he thought to do something nice for her before? Christ, she’d shared her body with him while he hadn’t even bothered taking her out for a decent meal in the village.

“What is all this?” she asked, indicating the table, the fire, the champagne.

Which reminded him. He poured two glasses, handed her one. “To you,” he said, and the flutes rang out as the crystal kissed.

She took a sip, looked at the platter of cheese and crackers, then cast a glance toward the kitchen. “I smell something good.”

“We’ll get to that later.” He put a slice of cheese—the fancy stuff from the fancy cheese place—on a cracker and handed it to her. It made him pause a moment. His mother had always done that...served his father the first appetizer. He’d forgotten that.

Angelica put the small morsel into her mouth and closed her eyes in appreciation as she chewed. Brett stared at the dark fan of her lashes, fascinated as he’d always been by the little, perfect details of her.

The tiny dot of a beauty mark high on one cheekbone.

The delicacy of her wrists.

The fragile frame of her collarbone.

The lushness of her lower lip.

Blood rushed south, his cock beginning to harden. When she opened her eyes, he half turned to study the flames, hoping she wouldn’t notice the heavy bulge in his jeans, and rebuked himself for being a randy jackass. This evening was supposed to be about giving her a gift of sorts. Doing something for her. Not
doing
her.

Those three words didn’t help, damn it. In his mind’s eye he saw her naked limbs, her golden skin washed by the light from the fire. He could taste her in his mouth, the sweetness of her kiss, and he wanted to sample her everywhere. Burying his mouth between her legs would be his first stop.

“Brett?”

He threw the entire glass of champagne down his throat, then cleared it. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t see your car.”

“Oh. That.” This was kind of embarrassing, too, come to think of it. “I wanted to surprise you...so I parked it down the road a ways instead of up here.”

“You went to a lot of trouble.”

“I had help,” he admitted, turning back to grab the champagne. He refilled his, and then topped off her glass. But he’d taken it, the help, the moment the inspiration had struck. “It was Poppy who gave me the news about the manager position.”

“Poppy?”

“Sweetheart, surely you understand the speed of the mountain grapevine by now.” He told her about rendezvousing with his sister to get the binoculars. London and Mace had been along for the ride. They’d all been standing on the sidewalk in the village when she’d dropped the info.

It was only a small leap from him audibly mulling over providing some kind of celebration and his sister recommending a local caterer to put together dinner. An hour and two stops later—to said caterer and then to the print shop—and he’d been all set.

“Are you hungry? The beef stroganoff is ready whenever you are.”

She hesitated. “Would you...would you mind if I change first?” She glanced down at her jeans and sweater. “I’ve been in this all day.”

“Sure,” he said, biting off the urge to ask if she needed help undressing. “Take your time.”

Champagne glass in hand, she headed toward the hall, then paused. “Speaking of the grapevine...did you hear there was another burglary last night?”

He nodded, almost struck dumb by the picture she made, the low light giving her skin an angelic glow. “Yeah. Ran into Vaughn on the street when I was with Poppy. He just loves being the bearer of bad news. A fancy edition of
The Call of the Wild
was taken.”

She turned back toward her bedroom and he stewed about the spree of robberies while she was gone. While he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to burgle the cabins in the first place, let alone make a second attempt, he’d insisted on sleeping on Angelica’s couch.

Of course, he’d tossed and turned the entire time, thinking of her lying on a bed just a few feet away. But he’d accepted the misery, choosing that over risking more attachment.

There was going to be a reprise of that same suffering this evening, he reminded himself. Until the bad guys were caught, he was sticking close, no matter how that tempted his control.

Then she walked back into the room and he thought,
Oh, fuck.

“I thought a fancy meal needed a fancier set of clothes,” she said.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
! A merlot-colored dress wrapped her spectacular body. It had long sleeves but dipped deeply between her breasts. Its hem swished somewhere above her knees, revealing her incredible legs. High heels only served to draw his eyes to her magnificent ass as she once again approached the table.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said honestly. He was supposed to be gifting her, not the other way around.

She must have realized it was a compliment. “Thanks,” she said, with a little smile.

He pulled himself out of his sex stupor to head to the kitchen. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”

“What?”

“Let me just say I know every inch of every one of your curves.” He glanced at her, saw her head was tilted and she was regarding him with a bemused gaze. “Yeah, I’m a dog like that.”

She laughed, seeming to take no insult.

In minutes he had the food dished up. Remembering his mother again, he held out her chair. As she sat, he leaned close to take in a breath of her faint, exotic perfume and the scent tugged at his dick.

Yeah, a dog.

He tried to keep his baser impulses to himself as they began to eat. “So when do you move into the big corner office?” he asked, knowing very well there was no such thing at Hallett Hardware.

She hesitated. “Can we talk about something other than work?”

“Sure.” Maybe she was a bit nervous about taking on the new responsibility. “Like what?”

Her fork toyed with the field greens of the salad. “Tell me about the seasons I’ve missed. I saw summer, now it’s autumn.” Her voice lowered. “Tell me about winter.”

Brett eyed her with some concern. The request sounded strained. As though she wasn’t interested in idle chitchat. He shrugged off the niggle of concern. “We have rain first. When it gets cold enough, snow.”

She smiled a little. “I think I have that concept down. What’s it like here?”

“At the cabins?”

She nodded.

“This will be the first winter I’ve been here since the fire. Ryan wants to get some snow shoes to explore the woods. I’ve promised Mace and London that we’ll go sledding.” It pleased him to think of that. Sometimes he allowed himself to get too busy to enjoy all the area had to offer. “We’ll find a good run up on the mountain.”

Her gaze on her plate, she nodded again, as if painting a picture of it in her mind.

“In spring, there’s daffodils.”

“What?” Her head came up, her eyes wide.

“It’s a community project. Bulbs have been planted all along the highway and alongside plenty of the byways, too. In April, they bloom, a bright yellow surprise.”

“I was here one weekend in March. They weren’t up yet. I’d sure like to see them,” she murmured.

Thinking of how she’d appreciate the sight made him anticipate their appearance, too. He caught her hand, squeezed. “You will.”

She stilled, staring at their entwined fingers, and heat rushed up his skin like a flame finding favored tinder. The atmosphere in the room changed that quickly. Like the strike of a match.

From across the table he could feel her blood coursing beneath her skin. Her face was flushed, even her lips looked swollen, their color a darker pink.

Like her other lips would be, when he moved down her naked body to slide his tongue between them.

They were both breathing unevenly.

“I have a checklist,” she suddenly said, her gaze still focused downward.

He was staring at her breasts, rising and falling against the thin fabric of her dress. Beneath it, beneath the bra he could faintly see the outlines of her nipples, and they were hard.

Ready for his mouth.

What had she said? “Checklist?” He sounded stupid. Or a little drunk. But this intoxication didn’t come from the two glasses of champagne he’d downed.

“I want to have sex with you.”

“You have,” he pointed out, then wanted to bang his brain against the table. If she wanted to go another round...but they shouldn’t, he remembered. It sent the wrong message.

Tonight was supposed to be a gift to her, not another opportunity to screw.

“I want to have sex with you your way.”

Her eyes were on him now, those big brown eyes with the feathery lashes that had made him burn from the first day he’d looked up to find them on him. The sun had been bright that day and he’d just taken off his shirt. A tingle had run down his spine and he’d looked about to discover the curvaceous brunette staring at him. His abs had contracted. His cock had gone instantly hard.

She’d looked like expensive, high-class trouble.

And he’d wanted to push her into the soft soil he was tilling and drill her like the unrefined laborer he was. For months, he’d thought of holding her down with his dirty hands and availing himself of her body in every manner possible.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t have a way.”

Her look might have held some pity. “Brett.”

“What?” He should release her hand. Get up. Take their plates to the sink. Call one of his sisters to babysit the brunette beauty while he went back to his cabin—no, it would have to be a drive to the village where he would get too drunk to climb back into his car. A buddy would give him a sofa or a patch of floor, far from Angelica’s lure.

Instead of him rising from his seat, she did. He was forced to let her go. Her hand moved to the side of her dress at her waist. One tug, and Brett’s jaw dropped.

Just like the dress, when she shimmied her shoulders.

His brain flatlined. Beneath the garment, she wore a panty and bra set of sheer black net that included incongruously innocent pale pink bows: one between the cups of the bra, one at each hip.

Lust poured into him, making every muscle taut. He came to his feet. “What is it you want?”

“I told you.” She toyed with the ribbon between her breasts. “I want Brett Walker in bed, not some stifled gentleman.”

“Stifled?” If she was trying to goad him, it just might be working. “Gentleman?”

“Don’t treat me like I might break,” Angelica said then. “I’m sturdy, you’ve got to know that by now.”

She wanted him to prove it. “Oh, angel face.” His feet knew where the rest of him wanted to be. Standing in front of her, he cradled her cheek in his palm. Her skin was warm, her dark eyes trained on him. Every inch of her telegraphed tight nerves.

Was this the gift he could give? His belief in her strength?

His gaze fell from her sweet mouth down to her body. “That’s some dangerous lingerie, sweetheart. But what’s with the prissy ribbons?”

She seemed to relax at his teasing tone. “Comes with the territory. You should know. You have three sisters.”

“I’ve never looked at their underwear!”

At his faux outrage, she giggled. And he bent to bite the sound right off her lower lip.

She gasped and her body bowed into his. His arm snaked around her waist and he palmed the plane of her lower back, his pinkie finger trailing beneath her panties to stroke the curve of her plump ass.

Her body trembled under this new touch and her mouth opened to his. His tongue plunged inside and hers tangled with it, eager to play. He kissed her until neither of them could breathe, then he tore his mouth away, looking at her again.

Her lips were swollen, her expression dazed. He supposed his tongue lolled from his mouth as he took her in—heaving breasts, decadent little-nothings, those high heels. His control was officially shot. His reluctance up in smoke.

“No matter what, the shoes stay on,” he ordered.

Another tremor racked her body. He smiled at her, but there was nothing tender in it. It was hot and a little mean, because he was going to take from her what that uncivilized laborer had wanted all summer.

He wasn’t going to ask permission; he was going to extract every sigh, cry, shiver he could get from her.

Pointing to the couch, he directed her silently. Angelica gave him a look that was all pleading arousal. “You asked for it, beautiful girl. You’re going to get it...slow.”

A little moan escaped her lips as she walked away from him. Her high heels made her hips sway...and made Brett sweat.