Here Comes Trouble (7 page)

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything against your will.” He slowly turned her around, then crowded her back against the wall next to the screenless door. He grinned. “Unless you like that kind of thing.”

Her eyes widened. Holy hell, maybe he was a socio—He cut off her wild thoughts with a kiss. A kiss so perfect, where his mouth fit hers so effortlessly and beautifully, that by the time he parted her lips and took the kiss deeper, she was pretty sure even catching the glint of a silver blade being lifted over her head wouldn’t have stopped her. Not that her eyes were open at this point or anything.

He lifted his head just a fraction, and she sighed a little at the sudden defection of his lips from hers. “Do I really scare you that much?”

“What? Why—” She broke off, certain she couldn’t pull off the necessary insouciance to make him believe she did this sort of thing all the time, and, that, of course she wasn’t afraid of him. What he didn’t realize, was that she wasn’t so much afraid of what he might do to her…she was more afraid of how she’d feel about it when he finally stopped doing it.

“I don’t—” She started, then stopped, then swallowed and lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t do this. Normally. I mean, I’ve done this. Of course. Just not…not with a guest. It’s not very professional.”

“I think we’ve established that, at least between us, the professional aspect of innkeeper-guest possibly doesn’t apply. What with that whole lifesaving-rescue-dinner part.”

“I know it’s been a bit unorthodox so far, but, I just meant that, it’s not how I’d normally, how I’d prefer to—”

“Would it help if I told you that this guest doesn’t mind being an exception? And, don’t worry, he’s not looking for any special favors from his hostess.”

“Define ‘special favors.’”

His grin was slow, and oh so lethal to whatever was left of her sanity. “I’m not trying to duck paying room and board by giving up my bed for yours,” he clarified.

“You already paid for your room and board.”

“For a few days, yes.”

“Are you planning on—”

“Extending my stay? Possibly.”

There was a part of her mind that was still standing a bit separate from what was actually happening, trying to process everything, make sense of it, help her make rational and wise decisions. But the larger part of her brain, and pretty much all of her body, were totally in the moment. And they wanted what they wanted, and damn the bigger picture.

“And what would you be basing this decision on?”

“A number of things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as I have some decisions to make, some pretty big ones. And I want the time and space to think things through, make sure the conclusions I draw are sound and suit me. And those I care about. This seems like a pretty good place to do that.”

It so wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. She’d fully expected him to say whatever he had to say to get his immediate needs met. She was honest enough to admit that it would have worked with her. “You confuse me,” she said, quite bluntly, and perhaps not entirely wisely given where her immediate needs were concerned. But if he was being surprisingly frank and open, no reason not to follow suit. “You have since you got here yesterday.”

“How is that?”

“Oh, there’s a list.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Really? I’m that much of an enigma? I think I’m pretty straightforward. God knows I have been with you. No hidden agendas.”

“Right. I don’t know you, at all really, but that much I’m getting.”

“What do you want to know?”

Everything, was the first thing that came to her mind.

Absolutely everything.

S
o, clearly he was much further out of practice than he thought where the opposite sex was concerned. He’d been fairly certain at dinner last night, and pretty much a hundred percent certain this morning, that he wasn’t the only one having wayward thoughts of a sexual nature. So much so, that, what the hell, he’d decided to act on them, see what happened.

Brett hadn’t exactly thought things through much beyond that, but then, he’d sort of thought the direction would more or less establish itself. And he’d work from there.

He should have known that, where Kirby was involved, nothing was going to be simple. Had he admitted as much to himself, perhaps he’d have rightly talked himself out of making any moves whatsoever.

He really did have some important things to consider. And she was definitely clouding that process. It would be convenient to tell himself that this was all about cloud clearing, and using seduction as a means of regaining focus. Except he’d never had any problem focusing before. He was very, very good at that. Hence his current bank balance.

And he’d had his hands on her now…and his mouth. Well, on her neck anyway. Which had proven to be far more lethal than one would suspect. All warm and sweet and soft…with that rabbit punch of a pulse quivering against his lips. Told him a lot. A lot more than she was telling him, anyway.

At the moment, she was stalling. And he was letting her. Because he meant what he said about not forcing her. But…he wasn’t exactly letting her go, either. Was he?

“You come tooling up on this huge Harley, all dressed in leather. But you wear cashmere and keep your hands in better shape than most women I know. And every guy I know. So yes, you’re a bit of a paradox.”

“Well, the leather keeps the bugs from stinging and the dust from choking. Not to mention providing a far more decent barrier to road rash than the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing underneath them. As for the hands…” He paused, and used those hands to slide up her waist, then cup her elbows, and urge her arms up around his neck. “Occupational hazard.”

She frowned a little. But didn’t move her hands from his shoulders when he circled his back around her waist. As foreplay went, it was admittedly not what he’d been picturing…but he wasn’t any less turned on because of it.

“So, what, you’re a hand model? Or all model? I mean, you certainly could be. Would explain the tan, the body, the lack of modesty.”

When he spluttered a laugh at that last part, she instantly blushed.

“I said all of that. Out loud. Right out loud.”

“You did. And I’m flattered. I think. Although I’m far more modest than the amount of clothing I’ve worn the past twenty-four hours would imply. I claim special circumstances. I also claim to not mind it as much as I’d thought I would, had someone told me I’d be spending most of my time half dressed around a woman I’d just met and found intriguing.”

She snorted.

“Did you really just…snort at that? I was sincere.”

“You certainly always sound sincere. I’ll give you that. In fact, that’s another part of the enigma.”

“Meaning…what, exactly?”

“Meaning for a dusty, leathered-up biker dude, you’re actually rather soft spoken and polite.”

“When you’d have expected what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I guess a fill-in-the-blank cliché. I don’t actually know any bikers.”

“Which clichés would those be?”

“Tall, dark, and Clint Eastwood–like silent. Or brash, cocky, maybe a little crude.”

He smiled a little. He did that a lot around her. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, but you didn’t. I think…I don’t know. Like you said, intriguing.” She paused. “Wait, what did you mean about me intriguing you? What about me could possibly be intriguing?” She lifted a hand. “Wait, that sounded like digging for compliments. I was actually just curious.”

“You’re not what I expected, either.”

“You have certain expectations of your innkeepers?”

He felt her hands tense a little, where they still rested on his shoulders. She wasn’t holding on, much less coming on—more like holding in place. In fact, she seemed so caught up in what they were saying, he wasn’t sure if she realized she’d been toying with the ends of his hair. Normally he’d say that was a direct type of flirtation. She seemed more…distracted. Until that last comment. “Why did you tense up just then?”

She looked him square in the eye. “You’re not a serial killer, right? Because that would be my karma. I don’t even know what I did to earn a snow-less winter, much less a complete jackass of an ex, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything in this life to warrant it ending with me being hacked up into little pieces. So just tell me you’re not in the habit of going from little town to little town, seducing poor, unsuspecting innkeepers, then stashing them in the basement freezer.”

“Have you ever considered becoming a writer? Because that’s quite an imagination—”

“So, that would be a no? You’re evading, actually.”

“Well, if I was a killer, I’d just smile and tell you whatever you wanted to hear anyway, so you’re not going to automatically believe everything I say.”

“True. I faxed your license to the sheriff’s office.”

He couldn’t help it. That made him pause. And he was pretty sure his smile had faded along with it.

“Uh oh,” she said, and started to slide her hands from his shoulders.

He quickly covered them, but gently. “No, nothing like that. I just—you can ask your local sheriff everything he discovered about me. That’s not it.”

“You say that like there’s a long list of things to be discovered. Anything you want to confess up front?”

“I’ve never killed anything. Or anyone,” he added.

“Okay. Felonies? Pending charges? Assault? Robbery?”

“Wow. Either I made a really wrong impression on the bike, or you really have lousy taste in men. What, exactly, did this jackass of an ex do to you, anyway?”

“Did I say that out loud, too?” She sighed and shook her head when he nodded. “See, I don’t have taste in men.”

His brows lifted. “Really? Because I could have sworn—”

“No! I mean, I didn’t mean it that way. I have interest in men, but…never mind. Let’s just say that I haven’t had to worry about my taste levels or lack thereof. Lately.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?” She ducked her head and sighed. “Clearly, this is a good thing. Accuse you of being a crude, serial-killing, bank-robbing biker with a manicure, and, just in case you’re the type that is attracted to psycho basket cases, make sure you add lonely and pathetic to the list.” Kirby did remove her hands this time, and then she stepped back before he could keep her close. “Why don’t I stop while I’m already so far behind there’s no recovery? Because, given another few minutes, I wouldn’t be the least surprised to discover I could actually make it worse.”

He laughed. Which clearly surprised her. It even surprised him a little. Because psycho basket cases most definitely were not high on his list of women he wanted to go to bed with. No amount of good sex was worth that. Which went a long way toward explaining his prolonged celibacy of late. Not a lot of sane and normal in the casino life.

Maybe not in Pennydash, Vermont, either, as it turned out.

“Not that I’m not relieved you have a sense of humor, but why the laugh?”

“When I said you weren’t what I expected, either, it wasn’t as an inn owner. I was going based on appearance. Like you were with me. You’re tall and graceful, with such quiet features and serious eyes. Seeing you, without ever meeting you, I’d have pegged you as somewhat culturally elevated, perhaps even a bit snooty, definitely over-educated, traditional, conservative…”

The corner of her mouth kicked up in a dry smile. “Ruined that perception pretty good, huh?”

“Mostly. Maybe. But that’s what drew me.” He reached for her again. “Draws me.”

She moved back a half step. “I’m really not a psycho basket case. Over the past two years, I’ve been more sane than I’ve probably ever been, well certainly given the ten or so odd years that came before it. Speaking of which, I’m a lot older than you.”

“Okay.”

She cocked her head. “Okay?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure I get the significance. Unless it bothers you. People are people.”

“Age is just a number?”

“No, not at all. The number of years a person has put in should impact them in some way. Hopefully with increased wisdom, but not always. With life experience, to be sure. Sometimes where they are on their path doesn’t match with where I am on mine, but otherwise, people are just people. I don’t limit my exposure to them, or my attraction to them, based on how old they are. Or aren’t.”

She continued to look at him.

“Bad answer? It’s the truth.”

“No, not at all. Possibly the best answer.”

“What then? Are you hung up on my being younger?”

She shook her head. “Not as it pertains to me, anyway. I can say I wish I’d had your more advanced worldview when I was your age. Would have saved me a ton of grief and loads of unfulfilled expectations.”

“The jackass ex again?”

She shook her head. “No, I was talking about me. Jackasses are jackasses. It’s not so much their fault when they do nothing to pretend otherwise. Then it’s on the one who keeps thinking they’ll change. It was that age-equals-wisdom thing that hung me up. Well, that and a pretty good case of insecurity and inexperience. Also on me.”

“Clearly you figured it out at some point. How long ago did your epiphany come about?”

“Oh, about two seconds after I walked in on a private meeting he was having with his assistant—you know, one of those clothing optional meetings?—whereby he was telling her that of course there was nothing to worry about. I was too busy running around doing everything he told me to do to keep his fabulous resort running like a well-oiled machine while desperately trying to win his respect and continued support to ever imagine that he would be unfaithful to me.

“Or maybe it was a second or two after that, when he laughingly responded to her question regarding his ever marrying me by stating that why would he ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him? He had someone he could count on to be loyal, hardworking, and give him the very best both at work and at home, all for a less than commanding salary. He’d have to be an idiot to marry me.” She tapped her chin. “Yep, it was pretty much right about then. Of course, the kicker is he was completely right.”

Brett grinned. “So…maybe the real question is whether or not you’ve committed any felonies that I should know about.”

She blinked and looked rather mortified by her outburst for a second, and then grinned right back at him. “Fortunately I managed not to ruin the next fifteen to twenty years of my life, no. I’d already given him ten.” She lifted a hand. “And please, I am not asking for or expecting pity. You can’t be surprised when folks treat you like a doormat when you never stop them from walking all over you. Some of us just have a much steeper learning curve than others. Walking in on that
meeting
was the best wake-up call of my life.” She smiled even more broadly then and he loved how it animated those eyes of hers. “See? Totally not a psycho basket case.”

Brett laughed, and so did she. “See, that’s what intrigues me.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but clarify?”

“You’re a straight shooter. You don’t mind speaking your mind, and you seem to be pretty self-aware, although you’re almost too willing to cast yourself in an unflattering light.”

“Hey, if the light shines dimly…” Kirby shrugged.

“We’re all human. But you picked up the pieces and turned around and took your own dreams and did something about them. You’re constructive, not destructive. You learned from past mistakes, and then you moved on. You’re not a wallower.”

“Wow. All that from a few babbled stories and a total lack of finesse where half-naked men come into play?”

He tightened his hands on her hips and pulled her a fraction closer. “I’m pretty good at reading people. Did I get any of that wrong?” He ducked his chin to keep her eyes on his. “Be honest. It’s okay to toot your own horn, too, you know.”

“I’d like to think your assessment is right. We’ll see how things play out after this winter is over and whether or not I have to yet again find a new dream to build on.”

“Fair enough.”

“What about you? These decisions you have to make.”

“See, this is where I envy you. You knew what your dream was all along. I know I want to finally have mine come true, and that I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen…but I’m not sure what shape the dream is going to take.” He laughed again. “So, I guess you’re the psycho basket case with a jackass ex and I’m the aimless drifter with no idea who he wants to be when he grows up. Perfect match, right?”

“We’re all human,” she said, tossing his words back at him.

“So then,” he said, feeling rather ridiculously content, which didn’t bear examining given how newly acquainted they were…but rather than turn him off by her sudden revelation of a painful past, it had only served to further underscore his attraction. She was real. That was the bottom of it, he realized. She was honest, direct, and not particularly worried about his opinion. She told it like it was, even if that didn’t paint her in the best of lights. He doubted, given the look on her face immediately after the fact, that she shared that story often, if ever. He liked it—a lot—that she’d shared it with him. Made him feel like, perhaps, she’d take him for who he was, too…even when his less-than-normal background finally came out. Which, given the faxed license, he figured was more likely to happen now.

“So…?” she urged.

He snapped back to the moment and nestled her more fully in his arms. “So, I guess…we’ve established age isn’t an issue. And that I’m not a serial killer or a crude biker. You’re not dancing ballet at the Met or hosting snooty cocktail parties in the Hamptons. You don’t take shit from cheating jackasses. And neither of us should probably ever own a kitten. Any other obstacles?”

She laughed. “To?”

“Me finishing what I started before your neighbor interrupted?”