Читать книгу A Magical Christmas - Elizabeth Rolls, Bronwyn Scott - Страница 23

TYLER WOKE TO FIND her body curled against his.

He lay still, adjusting to the strange and unfamiliar experience of having a woman in his bed at Lake House. And not any woman.

Brenna.

His best friend. Except that what they shared could no longer be defined as friendship, could it? They were lovers. And he wasn’t stupid enough to think that didn’t change everything.

He’d done the one thing he’s sworn he would never do.

I love you, Tyler.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he eased away from her, drenched in panic and regret. He had no doubt that those words had been heartfelt and genuine. He’d always known that about her, which was why he’d been careful to avoid this situation. He couldn’t be what she wanted.

So what was he doing here?

The moment she’d said those words to him in the den, he should have walked out of the room.

He should have explained that he wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted.

Anything.

The only thing he shouldn’t have done was take her to bed.

Had she noticed that he hadn’t said it back?

What happened now?

Where did they go from here, and what would happen to the friendship they’d shared their whole lives?

This was his fault. He’d sat with her and spilled his guts, shared parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone before, and she’d done the same. For once in her life she’d spoken the truth, and that truth had snapped the strained leash on his self-control.

Unable to think clearly with her lying next to him, he slid out of bed and walked silently to the bathroom. Through the windows he could see the snow still falling, and it lay thick and deep over the trees and the forest trail. It showed all the signs of being a perfect powder day. Normally, he would have been hammering on her door, tempting her out before the rest of the world awoke but not this time.

Tyler ran his hand over his face.

He was afraid to wake her. Afraid to face what he’d done to their relationship.

He swore under his breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re an idiot.”

“Why are you an idiot?”

He met Brenna’s eyes in the mirror and saw her expression change from soft to wary.

She’d tugged on his blue shirt, and he found it endearing that she’d be shy with him, that she felt the need to cover herself after the intimacies they’d shared the night before. But it didn’t surprise him, because he knew her and knew exactly how she’d react in any situation.

“Brenna.” What was he supposed to say? This was new territory for him. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

He had to deal with it. Usually, he had no trouble speaking his mind, but right now, he didn’t know his mind.

He turned, wishing he had Sean’s smooth way with words or Jackson’s natural diplomacy.

“You regret it, don’t you?” Her voice was flat, her arms wrapped around herself, giving the comfort he should have been offering. “You’re sorry, and you wish you could turn the clock back.”

Did he wish that?

He didn’t know, but the delay in answering condemned him.

There was a flash of pain in her eyes, and then she turned away. Tyler ran his hand over the back of his neck, out of his depth.

“Brenna, sweetheart, wait—”

“For what? For you to find a tactful way to tell me you made a mistake? Forget it.” She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on, her movements ragged and uneven, her dark hair falling forward in a messy tumble. It didn’t help to know he was the one responsible for that glorious disarray. His fingers, his mouth, the movement of her body under his.

He wanted to grab her, and he wanted to let her go.

He wanted to strip off that blue shirt and feel her naked under him again and at the same time, he didn’t want to touch her.

Never in his life had he felt this conflicted. Until now, his liaisons with women had been short and brutally uncomplicated.

“Look, last night we talked about a lot of stuff. We were both saying things we’d never said before.” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling clumsy. “I value our friendship. I don’t want to lose that.” He saw her pause in the doorway. Saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the door handle so tightly, it was a wonder she didn’t wrench it from the wood. “We have a great relationship, and I don’t want that to change.”

Slowly, she released the door handle. Breathed.

“Everything has already changed.”

And she walked out of the room without a backward glance.

WHY HAD SHE told him how she felt?

She wanted to rewind the clock and take it all back.

Brenna stumbled through the snow feeling the cold and the snow seep through her clothing. Somehow she reached Elizabeth’s house and as she opened the door, she heard female laughter coming from the kitchen.

“So I said to him, ‘you have to be kidding. There is no way I can get you an interview until—’” Kayla broke off as she saw Brenna. “Hi! You didn’t answer my text so I wasn’t sure if you were coming. I thought—crap, what’s wrong?” She was on her feet in a moment and so was Elizabeth while Élise stood, her hand locked around the pan as she stared at Brenna’s face.

“Merde, what happened?”

“Oh, your hands are freezing! Why aren’t you wearing a coat! And gloves?” Elizabeth took her hands and rubbed them between her own. “There is more than a foot of new snow out there, and the paths aren’t even cleared yet. Look at you—you’re covered in it.” She brushed it off gently and steered Brenna to a chair at the table. “Are you ill? Élise will make tea. It’s gentler on the stomach than coffee.”

Élise gave her a look. “I do not know how to make good tea! I am not British. Kayla can make it.” But she looked worried as she watched Brenna sit down. “Merde, you are pâle comme un fantôme.”

“She’s what?” Kayla looked at her, confused, and Élise shrugged.

“Pale as a ghost.”

“Then say ‘pale as a ghost’!” Kayla spread her hands in exasperation. “I can’t translate French this early in the morning.”

“You can’t translate French at any time of the day. You have no idea how exhausting it is to always be in someone else’s language. I can never properly be me.”

Brenna sat for a moment, numb with cold and misery, comforted by the normality of the interaction. These were her friends. And they cared. “I don’t want tea, thanks. Is Jess here?”

“Snow day. She went across to check on Alice and Walter after all the snow we had in the night. Why didn’t you wear a coat, dear? That’s not like you.” Elizabeth brushed more snow from her sweater, and Brenna shook her head.

“I—I wanted to get out of the house. I didn’t think.”

“Ah! So Tyler was being annoying. This explains everything, I think.” Élise rolled her eyes, but Brenna didn’t smile.

She couldn’t talk about what had happened.

It was too private. Too personal.

“Élise, you are burning those pancakes.” Calm, Elizabeth stood up, and Élise swore fluently in French and then English as she whipped the pan off the heat and glared at Kayla.

“This is all your fault.”

“Of course it is. Everything is my fault.” Kayla eyed Brenna and then turned to Elizabeth. “You remember those photos you promised me? The ones of Tyler as a baby?”

“He would kill me if I handed those over.”

“I won’t use them without his permission, I promise.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth and closed it again as understanding dawned. “Why don’t I look for them right now? It might take me a while,” she said vaguely. “I have no idea where they are. You girls enjoy your breakfast. Don’t wait for me.”

“I cannot believe I did that.” Disgusted, Élise scraped the mess from the bottom of the pan and put it in the sink to soak. “If one of my staff was that careless, I would fire them.”

“It amazes me that your staff loves you so much.” Kayla sat down next to Brenna. “What’s happened, Bren? Is it your mother?”

“No.” Brenna shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m all right.”

“Oh, please, you’re talking to us, not a bunch of strangers. We can see you’re not all right.” Kayla reached out to rub her shoulder gently, and the kindness of the gesture tipped Brenna over the edge.

“I ruined it.” She choked on the words. “I did what you all told me to do and spoke my mind, but it ruined everything, and I want to put the clock back but I know I can’t and it’s done now, but I’ve lost my best friend, and I don’t know how I’ll cope with that. Not being able to talk with him, laugh with him, ski together—” The enormity of it hit her, and suddenly she was crying so hard, she couldn’t breathe, and she felt Kayla’s arms come around her, felt herself hugged and soothed, but all that did was make her cry more. “It’s over. For a moment I was the happiest I’ve ever been—” she hiccuped her way through the words “—and now I’m the most miserable I’ve ever been.”

“I don’t understand.” Kayla stroked her hair and held her. “Why is it over?”

“Me, I am completely confused.” Élise plopped into the chair next to her and squeezed Brenna’s leg. “Explain.”

“I told him how I felt. And then we had sex. I had sex with Tyler.”

There was a brief pause, and she thought she felt Kayla punch the air but when she pulled away to rub the tears from her face, both girls were looking worried.

Élise pulled a face. “And was a bad thing because all your life you have wanted this moment and built it up in your head and it was a big disappointment, no?”

“What? No! It was incredible.” Remembering brought more tears, and she dug in her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose. “It was the single most amazing night of my life. It was—oh, my God—almost worth blowing a whole friendship for.” But not quite.

“Right,” Kayla said slowly, “so why is this bad?”

“Because he woke up this morning and he said it was all a big mistake, he wished it hadn’t happened and he wanted things to be the same as they were before.”

Kayla sat back in her chair with a sigh. “Oh, Tyler, you fool.”

“I will fillet him, yes?” Élise kept her hand on Brenna’s leg. “I will serve him up medium-rare or well-done. Your choice. Then he will learn to be better at communicating.”

“I don’t want you to do anything.” Brenna blew her nose. “Or say anything. I don’t want anyone knowing or talking about it. He can’t help the way he feels.”

Kayla pulled a face. “He’s crazy about you, Bren.”

“Obviously not.” Brenna stuffed the mangled tissue up her sleeve. “I woke up this morning to an empty bed. He was in the bathroom having a panic attack. I saw it in his eyes.”

Élise made a disparaging noise. “Men, they are such wimps.”

“I told him I loved him.” She blew her nose again. “I thought I’d try being honest and speaking my mind, and I’m so tired of trying to hide my feelings. And he seemed fine, it didn’t change anything—but he didn’t say it back. At the time—”

“At the time you were focused on the moment.”

“Yes, but this morning—I saw it in his eyes.”

“He is scared.” Élise gave Brenna a brief hug and stood up. “He is terrified, and the terror it is making him stupid. This we can solve. He will calm down. So now you will stop crying and eat pancakes while we come up with a plan.” She walked back around the table, turned the heat up under the pan and started again.

Brenna shook her head. “No plan. No more meddling. No more telling me to speak up. No more throwing us together.” She glanced at Kayla, who blushed.

“I’m really sorry.” She sounded contrite. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Bren. You were so unhappy, and I love you and wanted to fix it, and I thought if the two of you were together then maybe things might work out.”

“Well, they didn’t, and they won’t, and now we don’t even have our friendship anymore.” She tried to control her breathing. “Whenever anything was bad in my life, when things were hard at school or at home, he was the one I turned to. He was my best friend. So who do I talk to now he’s the problem?”

“You talk to us.” Kayla touched her arm gently. “You have us.”

“So you give up?” Élise poured the mixture into the pan and tilted it. “You are a strong, determined woman. This is not like you.”

“It has nothing to do with strength or determination. I told him how I felt. I did that. And I wish I hadn’t. I gambled and lost.”

“You really believe he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

Brenna thought about the night before. About his mouth, his touch, the way he’d looked at her, how gentle he’d been, how caring and tender.

“I think he has feelings. But you’re right that those feelings terrify him. He hasn’t been serious about a woman since Janet.”

“He wasn’t serious about Janet.” Elizabeth walked back into the room. “I’m sorry, dear. I know you feel uncomfortable talking about this with me, but you shouldn’t. You’ve been part of this family since you were a little girl. I love you as if you were my own.”

Brenna’s eyes filled again, and Kayla sniffed.

“Stop it, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth sat down in the chair vacated by Élise. “He didn’t love Janet, you know he didn’t. That wasn’t how it was.”

Brenna wondered if Elizabeth knew more about Janet than she was letting on. “But the whole thing freaked him out. Losing Jess. He felt like a failure for not being able to keep her, and it tore him in shreds, I know it did. He hasn’t been seriously involved with a woman since.”

“Ever.” Elizabeth took the plate Élise handed her. “He hasn’t been seriously involved with a woman ever. And of course that is why it has taken him so long to finally admit how he feels about you.”

“He hasn’t admitted it.”

“He finally shifted the nature of your relationship.” Elizabeth was tactful in her phraseology. “And that is a step closer to admitting it. You need to be patient. Don’t back off.”

“There’s nothing I can do. I saw his face.”

“It is an insanely handsome face,” Élise murmured, “but sometimes what goes on in the brain behind that face is screwed up. He is scared, freaked out as you say, so you must unfreak him.”

Brenna looked at the pancake without seeing it. “How?”

Élise eyed Elizabeth, who gave a half smile. “Don’t mind me, dear. If you have a suggestion, out with it.”

“My suggestion is that you walk into his room wearing very sexy underwear and nothing else.” Aware that they were all gaping at her, Élise shrugged. “You are not only a friend, you are a woman. Show him.”

“I could never do that!”

“You had sex with your clothes on?”

Brenna felt her cheeks heat. “No, but—I’m not like you.”

“Which is probably just as well or Tyler would be chopped to pieces by now,” Kayla muttered. “I’m not sure Elizabeth should be listening to this.”

Elizabeth stirred. “I happen to think it’s an excellent plan. I will keep Jess for another night. She can help me stock the freezer for Christmas. She’s turning out to be a natural chef. And talking of food—” Elizabeth leaned across, cut a slice of pancake and fed it to Brenna. “You need to keep your strength up, dear.”

“Wait a minute!” Brenna almost choked. “For a start, I don’t own any sexy underwear.”

“Vraiment?” Élise looked appalled. “Not a single piece of silk or lace? Please tell me this is a terrible joke.”

“No.” Her face was burning, and she saw Élise glance at Kayla and then back at her.

“So instead be naked.”

“He’ll turn me down.” The possibility of rejection made her shrink. “And then what?”

“You are no worse off.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Brenna shook her head. Despite what had happened the night before, Janet’s words were still wedged in her brain. “If he doesn’t want me, that’s the end of it. I won’t push myself on him. That isn’t how I want our relationship to be. It’s finished, and now we somehow have to get our friendship back to where it was.” But what if they couldn’t do that? What if it wasn’t possible? “Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. In fact, I have some news of my own,” Elizabeth said casually, putting the fork down on the plate. “Tom has asked me to dinner, and I’ve said yes.”

Kayla stopped with her fork poised in midair. “Tom? Tom who?”

Élise rolled her eyes. “You should try looking up from your phone occasionally. There is a whole world going on out here.” She beamed at Elizabeth. “Me, I like Tom very much, and he grows the best tomatoes. He has good hands, I think, and I love a man with good hands. Sean, he is the same.”

“Tomatoes?” Kayla’s face cleared. “Oh, that Tom.”

Brenna, relieved at the change of subject, sipped the tea Élise put in front of her. Given that her friend was holding a hot pan, she decided not to tell her it was disgusting. “I love Tom. I’ve known him forever.”

“He has been very patient.” Elizabeth took a sip of tea, paused, swallowed and pulled a face. “I confess I didn’t find it easy after Michael died. But Tom has been a good friend to me, and friendship is the best basis for any relationship, isn’t it?”

“This is true,” Élise said, “but you are never too old for good sex, as Alice is always telling us. And now you might as well pour away that tea because I can see you all exchanging looks and forcing it down. And next time ask me for coffee.”

“GUESS WHAT?” JESS BOUNCED into the kitchen the following morning. “School is shut again. Snow day! Can we ski powder? Dad? Are you listening? Why are you staring out the window?”

Tyler stirred. “What are you doing here? I thought Grandma was dropping you at school.”

“I just told you, snow day!” Jess frowned and dumped her bag on the floor. “What’s wrong?”

Guilt mingled with thoughts that threatened to set his brain on fire.

He’d texted Brenna twice, and she hadn’t answered.

He had no idea where she was.

“Nothing is wrong.” Restless, Tyler grabbed his jacket. Maybe it would help to be out in the mountains. “Get dressed, we’re going skiing.”

Jess tugged on her boots. “Are we inviting Brenna?”

“She’s teaching.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” Jess stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “Something has happened, hasn’t it?”

“No. Get your coat.” He was out of the door before she could ask any more questions.

They skied a few runs together, then Tyler coached her, making her do the same run over and over again, repeating turns until he was satisfied. And she didn’t complain, not even when she caught an edge, fell and tumbled down the slope toward him.

She lay, winded, staring up at the sky. “I guess I messed that one up.”

He stooped and hauled her to her feet, rescuing her skis. “Your weight was wrong on the inside ski. You’re spraying snow, which means you’re sliding not carving, but aside from that little lapse, you’re doing good. Really good.”

And Brenna was right. He was enjoying teaching her. Far more than he’d ever anticipated he would.

Jess emptied snow out of her gloves and scraped it from the front of her ski. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“You’ll think I’m a wimp.”

“Tell me.”

Jess shrugged and shifted her gaze to the top of the slope. “When I’m up there looking down, before I start, I’m scared.”

“Of course you are.” Tyler reached out and brushed snow from her jacket. “We all are.”

Her eyes widened. “Even you?”

“Oh, yeah. You ask any racer, and he’ll say the same. If he doesn’t, he’s lying. Most of us know how it feels to fall, and in that moment before you start when you’re looking down the hill, you start to see the worst that could happen. And let’s face it, when you’re flying down at those speeds, it doesn’t take much to make you crash—you hook an edge or take a wrong turn—” he shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the chilling options “—it’s not that you don’t feel fear, but you control it. And that takes discipline. What people don’t realize is that it’s not only a physical challenge out there, it’s an emotional challenge.”

“I thought maybe the fact that I’m scared might mean I can’t do this.”

“No. It’s not feeling fear that’s the problem, it’s how you manage it. You can learn.” He reached out and fastened her helmet. “You could do this. You have what it takes.”

“Do you think one day I might even have my own crystal globe?”

“If you work hard, who knows? Do you want to?”

“Will you help me?”

He felt a rush of adrenaline and elation that he hadn’t felt since his accident. He knew he could help, and he knew he’d enjoy doing it. “All the way.”

“Then let’s do it.” Excitement burned in her eyes, and she knocked the snow from her boots and stamped her feet into her skis. “Let’s take it from the top.”

BRENNA FINISHED HER last lesson and drove back to Lake House. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to relax in a deep bath and stare through the window at the snow falling.

What she didn’t want was an embarrassing, uncomfortable moment with Tyler.

What was she supposed to say?

Forget it, Tyler. It was just one night. Plenty of people do it.

But she didn’t. And he knew she didn’t.

Let’s pretend nothing has changed.

How could she say that when it was obvious to both of them that everything had changed?

She should never have said the L word.

Exasperated, and cringing with embarrassment, she was relieved to see no sign of his car. At least she could go straight to her room.

She opened the door, made a fuss of Ash and Luna and then saw the package lying on the floor with her name on it.

Luna whined and pressed her nose against Brenna’s leg.

“I messed up, Luna.” Brenna stroked her gently and then opened the package.

A flimsy wisp of black tulle and lace fell into her hand and she stared at it, and then at the note from her friends, in disbelief.

Maybe this is the day you have a date with destiny. And it’s best to be as pretty as possible for destiny. Coco Chanel (with some tweaks from Élise and Kayla xxxx)

“You have to be kidding me.”

Luna whined, and she shook her head at the dog. “I cannot wear this. I can’t.”

She turned it over in her hands and then held it up.

She didn’t need to try it on to know it was going to reveal far more than it covered.

She heard the slam of a car door and listened for the sound of voices, but a quick glance through the window told her Tyler was on his own.

Without bothering to take off her coat, she sprinted upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door, the offending package still in her hand.

Heart pounding, she put the garment on the bed and checked the label.

French, of course. And expensive. Sheer, sexy and something she wouldn’t wear in a million years.

Except—

Heart thumping, she took off her coat and hung it up, feeling as if the underwear was watching her, blaming her for being a coward.

Did Élise really wear that sort of thing? No wonder Sean was always walking around with a smile on his face.

What was to stop her doing the same thing?

From downstairs she heard a clash of pans in the kitchen and relaxed slightly. One thing she was sure of—there was no way Tyler would come looking for her. He was obviously as uncomfortable about the whole thing as she was.

After stripping off her clothes, she ran herself a deep bath and sank into the water.

She thought about the underwear lying on the bed.

It wouldn’t hurt to try it on, would it? Then she could at least thank Élise and Kayla, tell them it was a lovely thought but that it hadn’t fitted.

Leaving the comfort of the deep bubble bath, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked into the bedroom. The only light in the room came from the lamp next to the bed, and she dropped the towel and reached for the underwear. It felt soft and flimsy in her fingers, a whisper of wicked temptation.

Pulling it on, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. She’d never worn anything so light and delicate. It was like wearing nothing, and the tulle bra fitted her small frame perfectly.

She had a feeling Coco Chanel would have approved.

Piling the heavy mass of her hair on top of her head, she pouted and struck a pose and then shook her head.

She looked ridiculous.

If she walked into Tyler’s room looking like this, he’d laugh. She could imagine his expression.

And then the door to her bedroom opened, and she didn’t have to imagine his expression because he was standing in the doorway looking as if he’d been caught in the path of an avalanche. And there was no sign of laughter.

“Holy—”

“Tyler! What are you doing here? Get out!” She dropped her arms and tried to cover herself, then snatched the damp towel from the floor but it caught in her foot and she crashed down onto polished wood in a tangle of long limbs and black transparent underwear.

Dignity shredded, she lay sprawled at his feet thinking that when Coco Chanel had referred to a date with destiny, she hadn’t anticipated that it would look anything like this. She felt as if she’d let the whole of womankind down.

Sorry, Coco.

She heard Tyler inhale and assumed it was because he’d never witnessed anything more clumsy or less provocative in his life.

“Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right! You’re supposed to at least knock or something. Oh, my God, Tyler, just—go!” She felt the burn in her cheeks, and anger mingled with frustration, all aimed at herself. Élise or Christy would have given him a feline smile and beckoned him into the room. They wouldn’t have fallen over and yelled at him.

“Are you hurt?” Instead of leaving, he hunkered down next to her so that those powerful shoulders were eye level.

“Yes. No.” Her pride was hurt. Her confidence decimated. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say—I wanted to—” His gaze dropped to the tulle bra. “Why are you wearing that? Where are you going?”

She could hardly tell him she was about to march into his bedroom and make an indecent proposition. He’d laugh at her, and she couldn’t even blame him.

“I was getting dressed.”

“Why?” His eyes darkened, his mouth unsmiling. “Are you going out with Josh again?”

“No!”

“Then why are you walking around dressed like something out of a bad boy’s dream? Is that what you wear under your ski pants? If I’d known, I would have wiped out years ago.”

And in that moment, hearing those words, she stopped feeling like a fraud and started to feel like a woman.

She’d already told the truth. How could more of the same truth make things worse?

“I was trying it on. Plucking up courage to walk into your room and proposition you.”

His gaze lifted from the transparent bra, to her mouth, and then finally met her eyes.

“Excuse me?” His voice was husky, those eyes a wicked blue under thick, dark lashes that sent his sex appeal rocketing off the scale.

“I don’t agree with what you said last night.” She thought of Elizabeth’s words. “You wanted to put the clock back, to pretend it never happened, but we can’t do that. We can’t go back, Tyler, only forward. We’re both a little freaked out by what happened, but it happened so now we have a choice.” Her voice was firm. “And this is mine.”

He was still, his breathing uneven.

She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

Color seeped into her cheeks, a slow simmer of humiliation. Had she read him wrong? Was he about to tell her he wasn’t interested? That last night had been the result of too much whiskey and honesty?

Her fragile confidence evaporated in the heat of the silence.

“All right, this is embarrassing.” She pushed her hair away from her face with a shaky hand. “You need to go, Tyler. Right now.”

“Go?” He seemed to be struggling to speak. “You went to all that effort to gain my attention, and now you want me to walk away?”

“Because you’re obviously not interested!”

That statement was greeted by another lengthy silence. “Which part of what I’m doing makes you think I’m not interested?”

“The fact that you’re not saying anything for a start.”

“Honey, you’re sprawled in front of me wearing pretty much nothing but an anxious look,” he drawled. “I’m a man. We’re simple creatures. My brain shut down the moment I saw what you were wearing. It’s kind of hard for me to string a sentence together right now, so you need to be gentle with me.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Startled, she looked up at him. What she saw in his eyes made her stomach clench in a knot of savage sexual tension. His gaze burned hot, and there was nothing gentle about the expression on his face. He wasn’t looking at her as if she was a friend. In fact, she didn’t recognize this look at all. There was something in those brilliant blue eyes she’d never seen before, something that made her reach out her hand.

He pulled her to her feet and hard against him. She felt the thick ridge of his erection pressed against her, and then he was kissing her, and it was hot and crazy and nothing like the night before when he’d been so tender with her, so careful. This time his kiss was greedy, demanding, deeply erotic and unrestrained. He cupped her face in his hands, eased his mouth away from hers as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I’m afraid of hurting you.” His voice was raw. “I’m so fucking afraid of hurting you.”

“No. You won’t. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The force of the excitement barreled into her, and she clutched at his shoulders, feeling the swell of male muscle through the fabric of his shirt. There was a vicious tightening low in her stomach, a rush of desire that turned her legs into useless objects, but it didn’t matter because he lifted her and carried her to the bed, and any last reservations were blown away by the chemistry between them. She felt the warmth of his hands on her bare thighs, the brush of denim against her skin, and then he was kissing her again—first her mouth, then her neck. He sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. The light from the lamp spilled onto his hair, glossy and dark. There was a look in his eyes that made her catch her breath, and she lifted her hands to unhook the bra, but he caught her hands in his and dragged them down to her sides.

“No way.” He pressed his mouth to the pulse at the base of her throat. She closed her eyes, felt the touch of his lips and tongue as he moved down her body, exploring. The flimsy, transparent bra offered no protection at all from his skilled assault, and as the tip of her breast was drawn into the wet heat of his mouth, teased by the relentless flick of his tongue, she gave a little moan, unable to hold it back, unable to hold anything back.

“Tyler—” She tugged at his shoulder but he ignored her and moved lower, pushing her back on the bed with the flat of his hand. He pushed her legs apart, and she gave a gasp, squirming against the strength of his hands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m moving forward, like you suggested.” He spread her thighs so that she lay in front of him exposed, vulnerable, the delicate wisp of fabric more promise than protection.

His fingers slid along the edge of the silk, and she raised her hips, squirming against the sheets, trying desperately to relieve the maddening ache building low in her pelvis. He touched her everywhere except where she needed to be touched, those long, clever fingers spinning excitement with every stroke, tormenting her until she couldn’t take a full breath, couldn’t bear the delicious agony of the excitement, couldn’t last another moment.

She gasped his name, begged him, but he simply pushed her thighs wider with firm, determined hands, covered her with his mouth, and she ceased to be capable of coherent thought because she was swallowed up by sensation. The softness of silk, the slick probe of his tongue. She felt as if she were melting, coming apart, and then he peeled away the last of her protection, leaving her naked and at the mercy of his clever mouth and skilled fingers. She felt her body clamp down on his fingers and lifted her hips, but he withdrew gently and joined her on the bed.

She was close, so close, and she couldn’t believe he’d stopped right then. It was cruel. It was—

“Tyler—I want—I need—” She moaned as she felt the brush of his body against hers, and then he drove into her with a single, smooth thrust that made her gasp.

“What do you need?” His voice was husky, his eyes so dark with passion, they were almost black, and he drove deeper still, so that for a moment they were joined so deeply, she couldn’t breathe or move. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

She slid her hands down his back, stared into his eyes and fell deeper and deeper. “You already know.”

And he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, giving her everything until all she could feel was masculine thickness, silk and intense heat. She clawed at his shoulders, dragged her fingers down his spine, closed her hands over his backside, but he kept up the same rhythm, driving into her again and again, deeper, harder, filling her until she felt her body begin to tighten and ripple around the power of his shaft.

He muttered something under his breath, and she knew he was trying to hold back, but she had long since lost control and her body fluttered, pulsed, quivered and tightened around his, and he groaned deep in his throat, a primitive animal sound as each spasm dragged him past the limits of his own control. He thrust deep, every movement intensifying her excitement, prolonging the moment of ecstasy.

Afterward she felt limp. Weak. There was sweat on his skin, and he dropped his forehead to hers, his breathing unsteady, their gazes locked.

She slid her fingers into his hair. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry or I will knock you unconscious.”

“I’m not sorry.” He murmured the words against her mouth, dragging his lips over hers, and then rolled onto his back, keeping her in his arms.

“And if you wake up tomorrow regretting it, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I may never wake up.” His eyes were closed. “I think you may have killed me, but I don’t want you to feel guilty about that. Just tell me one thing—where the hell did you buy that black, silky man trap?”

She smiled and pressed her mouth to his shoulder. “You didn’t like it?”

“I was going to ask if it came in other colors.” With a groan he dragged her hard against his body, and she curled around him.

The words I love you hovered on the edge of her tongue but this time she held them back, not daring to do anything that might upset this new balance, this new shift in their relationship.

Through the window she could see snow falling like confetti, and she smiled because the moment was perfect, and she wanted to hold on to it forever.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bed.”

“Technically this is your bed.”

“Have you ever thought about doing this? Honestly?”

“All the time.”

She thought of the party they’d had in the summer to celebrate the opening of the Boathouse Café. “You hardly ever looked at me.”

“I trained myself not to. I trained myself not to think of you that way. Our friendship was more important to me than a few nights of burning up the sheets.”

That was what this was to him? A night of burning up the sheets?

She felt a thud of disappointment and then reminded herself that for Tyler, this was a big step.

He was here with her now. That was all that mattered.

“There’s going to be powder tomorrow. Jess will have another snow day.” She felt him relax and knew she’d been right to change the subject.

“We’ll ski—” he tightened his hold on her “—and this time you don’t have to climb out of the window.”

“It was fun.”

“It was.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

“I never thought we’d end up here.”

He turned to look at her. “No?”

Janet’s words were embedded in her head. “Never thought you’d find me sexy.”

“Seriously?” He gave a low laugh. “I always knew you’d be hot in bed.”

“You did?”

“Of course. You’re athletic, and you have a great body.”

She glowed with pleasure. “What happens now?”

He stroked his hand over her hair. “I guess we’re not going to need two bedrooms.”

“I don’t want to upset Jess.”

There was a gleam in his eyes. “Why do you think Jess has been spending every night with my mother?”

Brenna blushed. “They’re not subtle, are they?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Are you worried that our relationship has changed?”

“Not anymore. I’ve decided this relationship is perfect.”

“You have?”

Smiling, he pulled her back into his arms. “Sure, because now as well as being friends, I can screw your brains out, which is a winning combination as far as I’m concerned.”