Читать книгу Snowbound Sweetheart - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 11

Lindsay shivered as the wind swirled around the car, making visibility impossible. She was glad they’d stopped, but she wished they could continue on. She wished she had her coat out of the trunk. She wished…A blur of movement stopped her thoughts.

Suddenly the passenger door opened and Gil slid into the car, bringing with him snow and wind. She shivered again.

“Okay,” he said, not looking at her. “We need to turn right. Room number nine.”

Without speaking, she followed his directions, forcing her car to push its way through the snow. They could barely make out the numbers on the doors of the single story structure. There was a parking space in front of number nine and she pulled her car into it.

Then it occurred to her that he’d only given her the number of one room.

“Is this your room or mine?”

Dead silence. He didn’t even look at her.

“Gil? Is this—”

“Our room.”

It was her turn to be silent.

His gaze met hers. “He only had one room left. We can’t go on, and we can’t stay in the car. I didn’t know what to do but take the room. I promise you you’re in no danger from me.”

She believed him. And she should’ve been grateful. She was grateful, she hurriedly assured herself. But he needn’t make it sound so easy.

All afternoon, closed up in her small car, his male aura had kept her aware, tense…interested, no matter how much she told herself she wasn’t attracted to him.

Now she was going to share a motel room with him?

And he assured her that wouldn’t be a problem.

What could she say? He was right. They couldn’t go any farther. And neither of them could stay in the car. He’d done the only practical thing. After drawing a deep breath, she said, “Thanks, I appreciate your assurance.”

He stared at her, as if her reaction differed from what he’d expected. “You mean you’re not going to insist I sleep in the car?”

“And have your death on my hands? Of course not. I can share a room with you for the night.” So he’d be sleeping a few feet away. Maybe she’d have trouble getting to sleep, but she was tired. She’d manage.

“Great. We’d better take these blankets I borrowed from Kathy. We might need them.”

Normal, practical words. So why was he avoiding her gaze? Why was she waiting for the other shoe to drop? Something wasn’t right, but for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what it could be.

“Okay. Did the clerk mention anything about where we could get supper?”

“He’s got a small grocery attached to the office. Not a lot of selection, but I’ll go back and find something as soon as we get settled in the room. And there’s a microwave we can use, too.”

“In the room?” she asked, surprised by a modern convenience like a microwave in a 1950s motel.

He grinned. “Nope. In the office. The food will probably be cold before I can get it to the room, but hopefully it won’t be frozen. There is a coffee machine in the room, though.”

“I’ll start a pot at once,” she promised. “Can you get the blankets and your bag? I need to get my bag and coat out of the trunk.”

“Sure. Need some help?”

“No, thank you.”

By the time she’d struggled through the wind and snow, retrieved her belongings and made it to the door of their room, she wished she hadn’t been quite so fiercely independent. She could admit to herself, if not to her companion, that it would’ve been really nice to run for the door and leave the carrying to Gil’s strong shoulders.

He was waiting for her and immediately closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm.

She covered her face with her hands, grateful to feel the warmth against her chilled cheeks. “Thanks,” she muttered, leaning against the wall.

“It’s brutal out there. And you didn’t get your coat on.”

“It seemed easier just to gather it up and run,” she said, raising her head and smiling wearily at Gil.

Over his shoulder, she took in the room.

“I see our room is as out of date as—”

When her gaze focused on the major piece of furniture in the small room, she couldn’t continue. She just stared at it instead.

Then she stared at Gil.

“You’re not surprised,” she accused.

He turned to look at the double bed. As if to remind himself of what she’d discovered. “No, I’m not. The clerk told me there was only one bed. But I was hoping for king-size.”

“What are we going to do?” Sudden visions of sharing the bed with Gil, a large man, and sexy as could be, left her mouth dry.

“We’re going to get some sleep. And I promise that’s all we’re going to do, so don’t give me any virginal protests. You’re safe.”

Of course she was. The dratted man had made it more than clear he had no interest in her. But was she safe from herself?

“You could sleep on the floor,” she suggested, finding the air suddenly thin.

“So could you. I thought you were a feminist, wanting to prove you’re as strong as any guy. Want to draw for the bed?”

The immediate outrage that filled her had her reconsider her reaction. He was right. She’d fought for being equal to her brothers, but when things got difficult she wanted special treatment?

“No. There’s no point in either of us being uncomfortable. We’ll share.” If he could control himself, she was sure she could do the same. She hoped. It wasn’t as if she had an uncontrollable libido. In fact, she’d never understood others’ fascination with sex.

But the itchiness she’d been feeling all afternoon in the car, because of this man, had her reevaluating her previous experience.

“The bathroom is, uh, pretty small, too,” Gil said, as if giving her the rest of the bad news now that she’d remained calm about the bed.

She moved to the door just past the bed and peeked into the bath. Gil had understated its size. Postage stamp might be more accurate. No tub. Only a small shower, sink and toilet. So much for the thought of a hot, soaking bath.

More shivers brought her attention to another disappointment. The room wasn’t warm.

“Is the heater on? Can we turn it up? I’m still cold,” she said, looking around the room.

“It’s a lot warmer than outside, but definitely not toasty,” Gil agreed. He crossed the room to the small controls on the wall by the door. Sighing, he turned to face her. “I’m afraid it’s on high.”

Lindsay moaned in disappointment.

Damn, she had to stop making that noise. It made Gil think of long nights of mindless sex. Which warmed him up a little in spite of the inadequacies of the furnace.

He turned his mind to food, a safer subject than sex. Especially since he’d given his word that he’d keep his hands off of her. He hoped he hadn’t been overly optimistic. After all, she was a beauty.

She’d surprised him with her calm acceptance not only of the one room but also the one bed. He’d expected a tantrum, like Amanda had been capable of. She’d demanded luxury no matter what the circumstances.

“Want to give me some idea of what you want for dinner?” he asked, waiting for a long list of preferences.

She actually grinned at him. “I don’t eat liver. I’m not fond of fish—or spinach. Anything else is fine. And I wouldn’t say no to a candy bar. Stress makes me crave chocolate.”

He couldn’t resist tracing her slim form with his gaze. She must normally live a stress-free life. Otherwise she’d be several sizes larger. Which made her agreeableness even more amazing. He’d been attracted to her beauty from the beginning. Now, he was drawn to that grin, that twinkle in her hazel eyes.

“I’ll see what I can find.”

“Wait!” she called out as he turned to the door.

Before he knew what she intended, she’d looped a red cashmere scarf around his neck. “I noticed you didn’t have a muffler. This will keep your face warm,” she assured him as she tied it.

Her arms were around his neck, securing the scarf and he froze, aware that it wouldn’t take much movement to pull her into his embrace, to warm her body with his. But he didn’t move. He’d promised.

Against the soft cloth, he muttered, “I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out into the storm, scarcely noting the frigid conditions. It reminded him of that song, “Let It Snow,” with the words that said the singer would stay warm if he got a hug before he left.

He’d always laughed at that silliness, but even the thought of an embrace from Lindsay had him steaming.

He returned a few minutes later with a variety of food, none of it gourmet. He’d nuked several pre-packaged hamburgers in the microwave, picked up the last two egg salad sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, grabbed a couple of bags of chips and selected several chocolate candy bars.

Lindsay deserved any treat he could find.

When he burst into the motel room, slamming the door behind him, he was immediately assailed by the aroma of hot coffee. “You made the coffee!” he exclaimed.

“I said I would,” she replied. “I figured it might be the only way we’ll get warm tonight. In fact, I might even soak my feet in coffee later on. They feel like blocks of ice.”

He swallowed his “told you so” thought about the shoes she’d chosen to wear. No point in starting an argument when they had an entire night to get through together. “Want to see what’s for dinner?”

“Yes,” she said, coming around the bed.

He pulled the two hamburgers from inside his coat. “These are still warm, but we’d better eat them fast. These sandwiches are the second course. Chips to accompany either or both. And, ta-da,” he called, as if presenting the pièce de résistance, “chocolate for dessert.”

“Bless you,” she said, taking her share of his offerings.

Gil hadn’t believed she’d be pleased with his selections. Pleased? Hell, he’d expected her to turn her nose up at all of it.

She surprised him even more when she put her food down and returned to the other side of the bed to pour both of them a cup of coffee before starting to eat.

“Warm is more than I expected. With the coffee, they might even taste hot.” She set his cup on the lamp table, then moved down the length of the bed and sat down.

Neither bothered with conversation while they ate. By the time Gil took the last bite of his hamburger, it was cold, but the coffee was still warm. And the egg salad sandwich helped satisfy his hunger.

Lindsay handed him the second half of hers. “I’m saving room for the chocolate. You finish mine off.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said with a grin. Before he ate any of it, however, he added, “Thanks for being such a good sport about all this, Lindsay.”

She looked surprised. “Why not be a good sport? None of it is your fault. In fact, if I’d stopped when you first suggested it, our accommodations might be a little more…spacious.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re the one who should be complaining.”

Rather than argue about who was responsible for their situation, he smiled and finished off her sandwich.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get any reception on the television?” she asked, eyeing the set against the wall.

“Maybe. It looks remarkably new compared to everything else in the room.” He set down his coffee cup and crossed over to the television. When he turned it on, Lindsay cheered as a clear picture filled the screen.

“All right! My favorite show comes on tonight,” she said.

Gil changed the channel, only to discover that only one station got reception. “Then I hope it’s on this channel.”

“Me, too. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a turn in the bathroom.”

With a nod, he watched her grab her suitcase and open it, extracting several articles. Then she tucked it away and disappeared into the bath.

All he could think about was Lindsay emerging in something from Victoria Secret. A man could dream, couldn’t he?

When Lindsay finally opened the door, she was completely dressed in a velour warm-up suit, with thick socks on her feet. She sent him a nervous grin. “Not the latest style in pj’s, but this is the warmest I have.”

“I think you look very stylish,” he assured her. When she frowned at him, he asked, “What?”

“Is that a slam?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You said your ex-wife always had to be in style.”

Gil was at a loss at what to say. His first reaction was to tell her his wife wouldn’t have been caught dead in a sweat suit—unless she was modeling it in a fashion show. But that response wouldn’t do. The alternative was to tell her that he thought she’d look stylish in a trash bag, because all he’d be able to think about was what was underneath.

That definitely wouldn’t do.

“Uh, I was teasing you. Being warm is a lot more important than being stylish.”

She smiled and picked up two of the candy bars. Then she returned to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom and pulled down the covers. “I’m getting under the covers to watch television.”

He stood and moved his candy bars to the lamp table. “Good idea. Want a refill on the coffee? I think there’s just enough for both of us.”

“Sure, thanks.”

After filling their cups, he gathered his duffel bag and, with a nod of his head in the direction of the bathroom, he walked past her, closing the door behind him.

Lindsay drew a deep breath when she was finally alone. The man, with his sexy grin, was tough to resist. She couldn’t even suggest he sleep in the tub tonight, because there wasn’t one.

Oh, well. She could share the bed with him. After all, he’d brought her chocolate. She unwrapped the candy and took a big bite. Then she turned her pillow on end and sank into it, focusing her gaze on the television.

If there had been more covers, so she could really get warm, Lindsay thought she might’ve even drifted off to sleep, though it was barely eight o’clock. But the two thin blankets on the bed didn’t provide much warmth.

When the bathroom door swung open and Gil came back into her view, she felt the room get suddenly a little warmer. He was still dressed in jeans, but he’d changed his cotton shirt to a flannel one, left open over a white T-shirt.

“You’re going to sleep in jeans?” she asked, frowning.

He cocked one eyebrow at her. “I only brought jeans.”

She thought about his words as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. She knew he’d be uncomfortable, but he could sleep if he was really tired. She’d done it before when she’d been camping out with the family.

“You’ll probably need them. These blankets aren’t much help.”

He snapped his fingers. “I forgot about the ones I borrowed from Kathy.” He reached for the blankets that he’d dumped in a corner of the room and spread them out over the bed.

Lindsay immediately felt the difference. “Oh, thank you for thinking of them. That helps a lot.”

Even more effective at raising her temperature was Gil’s entry into the bed. His body heat was like a personal furnace, even though he maintained the foot of distance that the size of the bed allowed.

Twelve inches. And those twelve inches were possible only because she’d scooted to the edge of the bed. Gil’s broad shoulders took up more than his half of the bed. The temptation to press her body against his, resting her head on his shoulder, was almost overpowering.