Читать книгу The Mistresses Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 23

With that third big burp, not a whole lot stayed down.

The first priority—bathe the wailing baby!—was performed with much haste in the nearby laundry sink. Trinity found the task a slippery business, but when the baby had finally settled down from her upset, the kicking, splashing and happy squeals had made it a surprisingly enjoyable job as well.

After the baby was dried, powdered, rediapered then dressed in one of the outfits bought earlier in town, Trinity swapped her own soiled blouse for a clean one. Hours of rocking, singing and cooing, interspersed with more measured bottle feeds, followed. Far from laying bricks or digging holes, but energy requirements were surprisingly high. Trinity supposed she could have laid the baby back in her carrier and hoped for the best—that she wouldn’t whine—but those big blue eyes were so trusting, she simply couldn’t.

Zack busied himself preparing dinner for the adults—steak and salad—of which not a single bite touched their lips. She was too occupied with the baby, and Trinity supposed Zack might feel guilty eating when she couldn’t. He also made a cot of sorts in one of the recliners—comfortable, high enclosures, plenty of room. When the baby eventually shuddered out one last exhausted sigh and snuggled in, hopefully for the night, Trinity lowered her gently down into her bed and gazed at the peaceful sight for a long, thankful moment. Then she took her weary self and heavy arms off for a lovely hot shower.

Her choice of clothing afterward fell between a business suit or red silk pajamas…large jacket, long pants, all lined with soft brushed cotton. Matching slippers. Easy decision. In the privacy of the bedroom, she slipped into the soft silky folds, feeling too exhausted to worry about whether her attire was appropriate in the company of a man she knew only by reputation, and a bad reputation at that. But she doubted Zack would have the energy to goad. If he was half as tired as she was, he wouldn’t notice whether she stumbled out wrapped in a black cape and gnashing a set of fangs.

Damp hair caught in a messy bun, feeling squeaky-clean and ready to collapse, Trinity lumbered into the living room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs.

But for the rush of wind outside, the house was eerily quiet. The room was completely dark, too, except for the flickering glow emanating from the far wall. Hugging herself, Trinity edged closer. Over the top of the recliners, a glorious sight bit by bit came into view.

Crouched beside the fireplace, her handsome host was busy tending crackling orange-and-blue flames…a hypnotic sight that had Trinity’s lips parting to take in a dash more air. With slow, shifting shadows moving over his body—and the chiseled planes of his face—he seemed to sense her presence and glanced over. His gaze intensified then wandered to absorb her every inch, from the top of her wild bun all the way down to the red pom-poms on her feet. His study was so deliberate—so unapologetically favorable—it was more a self-indulgent, scorching touch. In the space of those few seconds, she’d never felt more like a woman. More desirable.

With just a look.

In one fluid movement, he pushed to his feet and set the poker blindly against the fireplace then moved nearer.

“You look ready for bed.”

His words—low, husky—enveloped her as he stopped an arm’s length away. A heartbeat later, when his scent wove into her lungs, Trinity involuntarily quivered inside and out. The seductive nature of the shadows, the blatant power of his presence…She felt so out of time and place, so unlike herself—if Zack touched her now, God help her, she might forget everything of which she disapproved and simply melt into a puddle at his feet.

“You were incredible.” His lidded gaze dipped to her lips and his chest rumbled. “You must be exhausted.”

Her mouth suddenly gone dry, Trinity tried to clear her swimming head. Yes, she was exhausted. Clearly more exhausted than she’d even thought.

“I knew she’d go down eventually,” she said.

“At one stage I had my doubts.” He flicked a look over at the baby sound asleep in her makeshift bed. “I can’t see her waking anytime soon.”

“Let’s hope. I don’t have one more verse of ‘Bye Baby Bunting’ left in me.”

He tipped his head toward the fireplace.

Her eyes had adjusted more to the lack of light. A thick quilt was lain out with plump white pillows propped up against the other recliners.

“I’ve imagined enjoying a brandy before a quiet fire since four o’clock this afternoon. Care to join me?”

Trinity’s pulse rate picked up a notch. After having spent the previous hands-on hours with him helping where he could, she might feel a little less hostile toward him, but not nearly enough to agree to lying in front of a flickering fireplace, sipping a glass of forty proof. But before she could decline, Zack threw up his hands.

“Yes, I know you think I’m a wolf—”

“Along with anyone else who picks up a magazine or goes on the web.”

He exhaled but his mouth managed to retain his sexy smile. “Anyway, I give my word I won’t use my apparently world-renowned seduction techniques to take advantage of the situation.”

“And I should believe you why?”

“Because you’re not my type, remember?”

Trinity paused. She had said that back at the hotel and anyone who understood the meaning of the saying “water meets its own level” knew it was true. That didn’t negate the fact that Zack Harrison was hot and irresistible and a natural born flirt. Far better to play it safe.

“Maybe I should make myself a cup of cocoa.”

But when she made a move toward the kitchen, he headed her off. “Let’s be civilized about this and meet halfway. Not brandy or cocoa. I propose red wine.”

“You really don’t like to be beaten, do you?”

Rubbing a hand over the broad expanse of his white T-shirted chest, he groaned. “Come on, Trin. Cut me a break. It’s late. We’re both beat. Let’s share a drink and chill a little before we crash.”

She held that breath. Was this poor puppy-dog act one of many from his repertoire—or was she overestimating her own appeal? He dated models, movie stars and heiresses, not girls on strict budgets who lived in studio apartments in Brooklyn. Hell, maybe deep down she wanted him to flirt with her. Maybe even kiss her. She wondered what her friends—her boss—would say. They all knew how she’d felt about men of his ilk. How she still felt.

But he was right. It was late. They were tired. She could let her guard down a little.

“Brandy might knock me out completely,” she smiled and admitted, “but a glass of red wine would be nice.”

In the firelight, his dark eyes glittered with a grin before he crossed to a cabinet that housed a small bar.

Her gaze took him in from top to barefoot toe. In that white T-shirt and black sweatpants he’d changed into earlier, he cut the figure of a prime athlete. The T-shirt’s fabric fell over the contours of his broad shoulders in an easy, tantalizing way that left her wondering who could ever weary of the sight. His legs were long and, from the firm sway of his body as he found bottles and glasses, obviously strong. As Trinity made herself comfortable on the quilt against the downy pillows, she was aware of every fiber relaxing and, at the same time, switching on to an unprecedented buzzing high. Probably not smart but, right now, it felt heavenly.

He brought over a glass for her, a snifter for himself and settled down a respectable distance to her left. After inhaling the wine’s bouquet, she sipped and smiled as the smooth warmth slid down her throat.

“Good?” he asked.

“Hmm, very.”

Satisfied, he leaned back against his pillow, tasted again, then hissed back through his teeth, clearly enjoying the burn of his brandy. But then his brow pinched and he glanced from the fire back at her.

“You know, we really ought to eat something,” he said.

She settled farther into the pillows. “Let’s sit here and just do nothing for five minutes.”

“So I won’t suggest you text your boss. You know you won’t make it back to New York for breakfast.”

Trinity’s insides pitched at the thought of having to explain why she needed a day off when there must be a pack of people who would die for a chance at her job. But then she let her eyes close and she sighed, too exhausted to think about that now.

She murmured, “Five minutes.”

Sometime later, Trinity felt something drift over her waist. Jerked back from sleep, she gasped and her eyes snapped open, but then she released that breath. Beyond the soft crackle of the fire and its shifting shadows, she recognized a man—Zack—settling a spare quilt over her legs.

“If the baby wakes during the night,” he said, collecting his snifter again, “I’ll get her.”

Reclining again, Trinity’s lips twitched. How did he intend to manage a messy diaper change? But the thought was a sweet one. And out of character, she thought. In his everyday life, she imagined Zack Harrison delegating all the mundane stuff, from RSVPing to five-star events to picking up the dry cleaning or sending a prospective female companion a stunning display of long-stemmed roses.

Bet his florist expenses are outrageous.

Overhead, something crashed and clattered on the roof. A branch whipped by the wind against the tiles? Trinity huddled down farther and inched the quilt higher. This snowstorm was really pulling up its sleeves. Could it possibly get any worse?

As the wind howled on like an angry beast outside, together they watched the fire’s gentle flames lick and curl and spit. The atmosphere was lulling…hypnotic. After a time, Zack spoke.

“You’re falling asleep.”

Trinity roused herself. “I was just losing myself in the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“In the fire.”

He swirled his brandy. “You’re an artistic type.”

“Right-brained, I guess you’d say.” Thinking of the striking image Zack Harrison had drawn earlier—what an amazing natural form model he’d make—she indulged in a secret smile. “I like to sketch.”

“I never made it past stick figures. How are you at physics, chemistry?”

Covering her mouth, she feigned a yawn.

“All right.” His teasing gaze challenged hers. “So tell me. What do you see in the fire?”

“Sometimes I see animals,” she said. “Sometimes people’s faces.”

“And tonight?”

Thoughtful, she angled her head and lost herself in the snaking hypnotic heat of those flames. “I see a baby. I see bottles and giggles, and a few tears. I’ll probably dream about all that, too.”

“You don’t sound as though you’d mind.”

Her gaze dropped. Was it that obvious? Her shoulder came up as she confessed, “She’s a real cutie. It’s going to be hard saying goodbye.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his brandy swirl again and caught a whiff of its distinct bouquet before he pointed out, “Imagine how happy her parents will be.”

“Yes.” She tried to push aside her doubts—her own experience as a displaced child never reclaimed—and pinned on a smile. “I’ll imagine that.”

Zack maintained his own neutral look. His jaw didn’t flex. Nostrils didn’t flare. And yet he couldn’t have been more affected.

From the start, Trinity Matthews had done curious things to his normally lucid state of mind, even with claws out, having a go at him. Sitting here while they talked and joked in the firelight had only served to make him hyperaware of that point.

Despite the fact that she disapproved of his personal life—based on trashy tabloid news, he might add—he was sorely attracted to her. He wanted to reach over, bring her close. Damn it, he wanted to kiss her. And in a slow, all consuming, let’s-not-get-out-of-bed-for-a-week kind of way.

The simmering awareness in Trinity’s liquid eyes, the engaging vibe she gave off when she let her guard down…If he traced a fingertip around the curve of her cheek, dropped his head over hers, would she slant toward him? Would she object if he scooped her up and dragged her off to his bed? The temptation was real—ridiculously so.

And that set him back.

Not because he was uncomfortable with any aspect of physical attraction, particularly when the person he wanted was so intelligent, competent and full of her own brand of fire. He admired anyone who wanted to stand by a strong opinion—even when they were wrong. His concern stemmed more from the peculiar sense of depth of his attraction to Trinity Matthews. He’d been intrigued by women before but not this way. Frankly the awareness he was experiencing at this precise moment was a little unsettling.

Clearly it was a product of these unusual circumstances. Here they were—isolated, sharing an unanticipated, highly emotive experience. Yes. That must be the reason for it. This unshakable, unrelenting need.

For several moments, he swirled his drink and stared into the fire. When he’d composed himself—physically, mentally—he pushed to his feet then ran a hand through his hair.

“Guess I’ll grab a shower.”

Looking delicious in those oversize pj’s, lounging against those pillows, Trinity summoned a sleepy smile. “I’ll hold the fort.”

Before he surrendered to the beast within, still scratching and begging to be freed, Zack grabbed his cell off the kitchen counter, climbed the stairs and strode into his loft bedroom. Truth was, if it weren’t for the baby, he’d probably open that cage and see what treats might be forthcoming. But after hearing that poor kid cry after her postbottle accident, watching how well Trinity had cared for her, the least he could do was slap a lock on that door—for the time being at least. All the world knew he wasn’t a family-of-his-own type, however, here and now that child must be their number one priority. But once she was settled elsewhere, whether that be back with her mother or in the hands of the state—

Flinching, he ripped off his T-shirt.

The end result was out of his hands.

Two minutes later, hot water was spraying his back while, with one palm pressed against the glass, Zack took time to lather up his front. When his cell phone rang, his first thought was: go away. Call back. But then his brain clicked into gear and, soapy and dripping wet, he reached out to snatch up the phone. The voice belonged to the woman from Child Services he’d spoken with earlier, a Cressida Cassidy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” Ms. Cassidy said. “I wanted to assure you that the authorities have been informed and a representative from both that department and my own will call tomorrow. The weather’s abysmal. Impassable. I hope you don’t mind caring for the baby overnight.”

“No.” The bathmat already sopping beneath his feet, Zack wiped water off his face. “I mean, that’s fine.”

“Has she settled down?”

“Without a moment’s trouble.”

Ms. Cassidy didn’t need to know about the baby’s red face when she’d hurled, or how he’d considered bundling her up and rushing her to the nearest clinic despite the weather when she wouldn’t settle down before getting into the laundry tub half-full with tepid water. Being a parent was said to be the most difficult job in the world. After tonight he believed it.

Only proved again—he was so not ready. He didn’t mind doing his bit, but nothing and no one—including family—could convince him he was ready for this kind of deal. Marriage. Kids. He liked his life just the way it was.

“Mr. Harrison, there is one more thing I need to say.”

Grabbing a towel from the rack, Zack listened up. After a few seconds, he checked the display screen and frowned. Damn it. Lost signal.

Another branch crashed onto the roof and his gut jumped before he made a beeline to the bedroom phone. That line still worked. Ms. Cassidy would call again—she had his landline number—and a time would be set for collection to take place.

Not that collection, as a word, sat too well.

While the wind howled through a thousand treetops outside, he crossed to a chest of drawers. He needed something suitable to wear. Rifling through socks, he grinned, but he didn’t own a pair of red silk pajamas. If he wasn’t thinking straight, Trinity wouldn’t be wearing red silk, either. She wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.

At the same time a particularly angry gust shook the rafters, his towel slipped to the floor. Scanning the ceiling, Zack held his breath, waiting for the inevitable crash of a loose branch or two to land on the roof. The crash came—an almighty clattering thump—then the lights flickered, once, twice, and the roller-coaster evening took another unexpected turn.

Downstairs, the fridge clunked over and off. The single light emanating from the bar snuffed out. But for the flickering fire glow, the room would have been left in an impenetrable shroud of darkness.

Trinity remembered to breathe.

Obviously the storm had caused problems with the electricity. Maybe the blackout would last a few hours, maybe only a few minutes. The saving grace was that the baby was sound asleep and the kitchen was equipped with gas burners should milk need to be warmed.

Still, Trinity held her bottom lip between her teeth as she shuffled deeper under the top cover and brought the downy warmth up around her chin. With wide eyes, she scanned a room filled with suddenly spooky-looking shadows. Truth was she didn’t much like the dark, not from as far back as she could recall, and there were at least a dozen reasons why.

Hurried footfalls sounded on the stairs, a padding that sent an eerie echo through the room. She pricked her ears, angled around and barely made out a figure, which came to a stop near the door. Something clicked and rattled then the figure moved again and—

Vanished?

Trinity’s heartbeat began to pound in her chest, in her ears.

A moment later, something brushed her arm. Her head whipped to that side at the same time she leaped near out of her skin. While she strangled the covers close to her throat, in the light of the fire she caught the face and blew out a long, shaky breath. Of course, there was no need for her pulse to be sprinting a hundred-yard dash. Who on earth else would it be?

Zack’s deep voice rumbled out from the dancing shadows. “You okay?”

She pasted on a blasé face. “I’m fine.”

“You look a little shaken.”

“Jeez, I don’t know why. Sitting here with the lights out and the mother of all storms lashing around outside. It was the ideal time for you to sneak up on me like that.”

“Can I help calm you down, hold your hand?”

Even though he was teasing, the need to recoil was outweighed by the urge to lean forward and say, Yes, please. Tamping down that impulse, she lifted her chin and calmly collected her glass.

“I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

Her gaze curved around the strong angle of his jaw, down the thick column of his throat and lower. Then she frowned, squinted. When she realized, her brain began to tingle. She swallowed deeply but her voice still came out a croak.

“What are you wearing?”

He glanced down as if he’d only now remembered, then stated the obvious. “A towel.”

She tried to give a casual nod, like it was no big deal that this dark-haired Adonis was crouching beside her, bare-chested, practically naked. The slightest shift of those massive thighs and, with the firelight’s help, nothing would be left to the imagination. Not that he seemed the least perturbed by his state of dress…make that undress. Hell, he might have paraded that body every other day to women he barely knew. And those arms…

Her eye line ran over that nearest bulging bicep and she swallowed again.

Clearly his body had been crafted from polished bronze. And he smelled so fresh, a combination of evergreen and musk. Her fingers itched to stroke up the toned ridges of his abdomen. Her palms ached to grip and rub those amazing pecs.

Then he was standing and that towel looked as if it was hanging on to those lean hips by nothing more than a prayer.

“…want some?” he asked.

Her attention leaped up from his chest to his face and, more precisely, the grin glinting in those dark eyes. Her jaw felt as slack as soft toffee. She’d been so engrossed, now she couldn’t summon the good sense to answer whatever question it was that he’d asked and she wouldn’t mind betting Zack knew it.

She couldn’t pretend that she’d heard all his question. “Want some—” Her throat convulsed again. “Some what?”

His grin slanted more. “Wine.”

She set her glass aside. “I’d better not indulge anymore.”

His six-pack clenched as he chuckled. “Occasional indulgence, Trinity, is a must.”

“I prefer sticking to the straight and narrow.”

“Straight and narrow, huh?” He held her gaze with his for a long, unsettling moment then grunted and headed for the bar. He poured a second brandy as he asked, “So, was it bad?”

“Was what bad?”

“The breakup.” He sent a knowing look over one bare shoulder. “I’m guessing it was and that it was recent.”

Her neck and face began to glow with a blush he would never see, thank God. “What on earth would make you ask something like that out of the blue?” And, despite her affront, she had to know. “What makes you think I had a breakup?”

“Your attitude. My experience.”

“With women?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Phil, but I don’t have time to date.”

“Now that is a problem.”

“What that is, Mr. Harrison, is none of your business.”

He sauntered back, the towel slipping more with each step. He sipped and evaluated her again until that blush had devoured her entire body and she sat up straighter, defiant.

“Is that another one of your tactics? Standing over people, trying to make them feel small while you make yourself feel big.”

She imagined a significant portion just below the knot in his towel jumped as if to answer her at the same time he exhaled. “So it was bad.”

Reflex said to laugh, tell him to take his brandy and questions someplace else. But this was his house. And, damn it, he was right. Bad pretty much summed up the end of her last relationship. She slumped into the pillows.

“He was kind and considerate and a terrific listener. He also didn’t like kids.”

His head went back. “You’d gotten that far?”

“He hadn’t proposed, if that’s what you mean. But I think it says a lot about a person if the mere mention of children makes them shudder.”

“At the risk of defending the guilty, men can have a slow uptake on that particular subject.”

“And why is that?” She really wanted to know.

“Because if we go all gooey at the mention of children, some women might see that as a sign we want to…want to—”

“To commit?”

“Yeah. That.” He nodded at the covers. “Mind if I join you? Of course, I’ll get rid of the towel first.”

Her breath caught but he was only teasing again. “Translation being you’ll change into something more appropriate.”

He headed out. “That, too.”

A moment later, rattling came from the kitchen then a stream of light clicked on—a flashlight. Its arc waved once over the room before fading into another area.

Relaxing, Trinity snuggled into her makeshift bed, eternally grateful for the fire’s light as well as its warmth. With the electricity down, the radiator would be out, too, unless it was powered by gas like the stove. Of course, there was always a possibility of sharing body heat.

As a pulse deep inside her kicked off, she scolded herself and snuggled down more.

Don’t even consider it.

When Zack returned, he wore drawstring pants and a loose fitting T-shirt, most likely found in the laundry room. She’d seen a basket of clean clothes sitting on the counter when she’d bathed the baby earlier.

“I checked around outside,” he said. “Snow’s pretty deep.”

“And still falling?”

“It’s let up some, but this is not a night to be out. Hopefully by tomorrow sometime, the skies will be clear and the electricity will be back on. In the meantime, the stove, radiator and water are powered by gas, so we shouldn’t freeze, and the baby’s bottles and warm baths are covered.” He looked into the fire. “The woman from Child Services called just before the lights went out.”

Zack explained that Ms. Cassidy had assured him she would be out to take care of the baby issue as soon as possible. Trinity told herself she ought to be relieved. She could get on with her life. Get back to New York. But she couldn’t help wondering about that baby’s future, immediate as well as long-term. Where were her parents?

Lowering beside her, Zack grabbed a spare quilt and spread it over his legs and around his ribs at the same time he visibly shivered.

“It’s freakin’ freezing out there,” he said. “And black. I can’t remember the last time the lights went out.”

“It’s annoying,” she admitted.

The child inside her whispered, And just a little scary.

He seemed to read her mind. “Could be the perfect time to share some ghost stories.”

The look she sent was pained. “I don’t think so.”

“I remember when I was perhaps ten,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard, “Dad took his usual few days off from being stuck behind his desk and the family came out here to Denver, but our regular chalet was double booked. The only place available was a run-down building that had once been a barn.” His voice lowered. “Or so the story goes.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, if that’s where you’re headed.”

“Neither did I. Until that night.”

Huffing, she pulled the covers higher. “You are so not the type to believe in things that go bump in the night.”

“Are you?”

“Not the supernatural kind.”

She caught his curious look and, knowing she’d said too much, she diverted the conversation. Might as well hear his story.

“So, you were all staying in an old barn.”

“That had been renovated decades before to include a kitchen, living room, bedrooms in the loft. The electricity didn’t go off like here tonight,” he said, picking up the thread. “But only a handful of lightbulbs worked. The fireplace was covered in cobwebs. The walls and roof creaked enough to have my sister biting her nails. I think that’s where it began.”

“Your belief in the other side?”

“No. Sienna’s gnawing at her fingers. Still does it to this day.” Leaning back, he latched his own fingers behind his head and those delectable biceps bulged. “Anyway, the light in the boys’ bedroom blew.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Three. Mason, Dylan and Thomas.” He pulled a mock-serious face. “We weren’t scared, you understand.”

She suppressed a grin. “Oh, I understand.”

“But the wind was blowing like tonight, and when that light-bulb exploded, we all happened to need a glass of water at the same time. Thomas, the youngest, shot out the room first. The rest of us followed on his heels. Our parents were sitting in the musty living room on couches that needed condemning decades before. My father was fuming, vowing to sue whoever botched our reservation, which he later did. He said if a good enough gust came along, the whole place would fly away.”

“Where was your sister?”

“Sienna was already snuggled up on my mother’s lap. She’s the baby. Always will be.”

Grinning, Trinity imagined a cutie with pigtails and stubby nails who relentlessly teased her brothers and got away with it.

“So you spent the night together in the same room,” she said, “set up all cozy before a fire like we are now.”

“That’s right. Except…” His hands dropped from cradling the back of his head and he angled more toward her. “Around midnight, the noises began.”

“What noises?”

“Distant. Indistinct. But they grew louder. High-pitched, screeching sounds. Scratching on floorboards. Somewhere far off, a rooster crowed.”

“At midnight?”

“That’s when we woke our father. He’d drifted off, was snoring softly, but by this time Mom was hiding under the covers, too. He scolded us at first but when he heard the noises, I swear I saw his hair stand on end.”

A shiver raced over her skin. Bringing up her legs, she hugged her knees. “What did he do?”

“What any father and husband would do in that kind of situation. He went to investigate. He was gone for what seemed like forever, and with every passing minute the sounds only swelled. That cock crowed again, nearer, louder. And the screeches seemed right there on top of us. The flapping of wings. Smells of a barnyard. A coop. I pulled the cover up over my head when an eerie clucking began.”

“Clucking?”

“Right then our father returned. He told us not to worry. He’d found the problem. It was only a bunch of poultry-geists.”

She gaped and then glared at the same time Zack broke into a grin. Two beats later, she let out the breath she’d been holding on a growl and slapped his arm. “That was so not funny.”

“Ah, I was only egging you on.”

A small smile cracked even as her eyes narrowed more. “Don’t leave your day job.” Poultry-geists, indeed.

“My older brothers have kids. When I go over they always want to hear that story. Entertainment I can do. Diaper duty I leave to the experts.”

“Not daddy material?”

“As I’m sure you’d already guessed.”

She shifted to lie down, propping herself up on her side. She’d like to know more about his family.

“How often do you see them?”

“Not including Christmas, Easter, birthdays and other numerous family occasions? All the time. I don’t mind. They’re good kids. What does irritate is—” His jaw tensed and he cut himself off.

She prodded. “What?”

“It’s not important.”

“I say it is.”

He scrubbed his jaw. “Frankly I’m tired of hearing that I should settle down. Like it’s Regency times and—” he put on an Oxford accent “—every gentleman must find a suitable wife.”

“Maybe they just want to see you happy?”

His eyebrows knitted. “I don’t look happy?”

“Happy in a nonbachelor way.” She put it out there. “Your family must feel like they’re in a revolving door the number of times they see you with a new woman hanging off your arm.”

“Good thing it’s my life and not theirs.” He leaned back, latched his fingers behind his head again and stared off at some distant point past the ceiling. “Unless you weren’t aware, I’m content with my life just the way it is. What about you?”

“I’m busy, settled and happy with my job.”

“And unattached after that breakup.”

“Definitely unattached.”

“But I’m guessing you’d want to tie a knot sometime…have children someday. You have a knack with babies.”

Her heart dropped an inch and she looked into the fire. When she felt his expression sharpen, she explained. “I like children. Babies.”

“That’s kind of obvious.”

Her cheeks began to burn, but she shouldn’t feel awkward. Zack had his life and she had hers.

“Thing is,” she said. “I don’t have family to fall back on, and sometimes both a mother and father drop out of the picture, for one reason or another. I have friends,” she went on. “Good friends. But no one I’d trust enough with a child of my own if something, you know, ever happened. And I have nothing against adoption. Heck, I would’ve loved to have been adopted by a loving family. And, when it’s needed, I can’t slight good foster care.” She took a breath. “Life is about choices. I’ve chosen not to go down that having-my-own-children path.”

Trinity took a breath and looked from the bed of flickering flames back to Zack.

A crease forming between his brows, he shifted and lay down on his side, too. Propped up on an arm, he set his jaw in the cup of that palm. After a curious moment of his intense gaze skewering hers, she shifted, too, and frowned.

“You mean not get married, have children?” he asked. “I thought you sacked the boyfriend because he didn’t approve of kids?”

“That’s right. He didn’t approve of them at all. I mean, you might not want to be a father, but you like your nieces and nephews, don’t you? You like this baby?”

“She can be noisy and smelly and has caused me a ton of worry. But sure I like her.” He slanted his head and then nodded. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I might not plan to have any of my own, but I couldn’t spend my life with someone who thinks kids are a waste of space.”

His lips twitched. “Bet he didn’t like puppies, either.”

“Or kittens.”

Zack was kind enough to smile softly. “You were right to ditch him.” Then he shifted and changed the subject. “What about your professional life?” he asked. “What are you working toward?”

“One day I hope to be the editor in chief of the biggest, glossiest magazine around. Basically world domination in my field.” She added, “While staying clear of men who tell bad chicken jokes.”

“No getting away from me tonight.”

She put on a sigh. “Guess I’ll suffer for a good cause.”

The tease in his eyes gradually took on a vaguely different light at the same time the quirk lifting one side of his mouth faded away and a different awareness began to ripple between them. The crackle from the fire sounded louder, the rise and fall of his chest became deeper. Pumping in and out of the light, the pulse at the side of his throat throbbed faster and, entranced, her body responded to it all.

Her breasts came alive, swelling, heating. Low inside, a delicious ache flowered and grew. She watched his lips part slightly, saw his eyes darken more, then he reached out and a hot fingertip trailed her jaw. That delicious ache spread south—a sweet, raw burn.

When he brushed back hair fallen over her face and his hot palm stayed to cup her cheek, all the oxygen in the room disappeared. Suddenly heavy, her eyelids drifted shut as her body—her very essence—gravitated unerringly toward his. With the lights out, with this extraordinary man she barely knew, everything felt so unreal. So…imminent. She didn’t want to think about who he really was. That before today she would have given him less than the time of day. At this moment, he truly was irresistible.

“Your hair,” he said in a deep, drugging voice. “A wave came loose from its tie.”

“Oh.” She breathed in. Out. Then the words just slipped past her lips and she said it. “I thought you might’ve wanted to kiss me.”

That pulse in his throat beat twice as hard and, while she held her breath, he blinked slowly once. “Actually I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He leaned across and his mouth grazed hers, first slowly one way then the other. “Trouble is,” he murmured, “if I kiss you now, I won’t want to stop.”

She quivered to her pom-pom-topped toes and clapped a hand over her scruples’ eyes.

Who said anything about stopping?

But then her thoughts slid back to what had brought them here in the first place. “What about the baby?”

“You’re right,” he agreed even as his lidded eyes drifted shut. He leaned that inch closer and his mouth feathered over hers again. “We should think of our responsibilities.”

But his mouth lingered and as his scent burrowed deeper, Trinity couldn’t recall a single reason why she shouldn’t fan her palm up over his shoulder and bring herself delectably, irreversibly closer. When he tasted the corner of her mouth—a deliberate, potent caress—that beautiful ache flooded her core and the last remnants of common sense shut down. She’d be lucky to remember her own name.

The tip of his tongue slid a deliberate line across the seam of her lips. “Maybe if we just snuggled?” he said and she felt his grin. “You know. To keep warm.”

When his sandpaper chin grazed the side of her face and he dropped a kiss on the shell of her ear, the knowledge—the intense glow of longing—was too much. Near dizzy with need, she told him in a husky voice, “I think snuggling would be okay.”

A big palm traced down her side. She heard a sigh—her own—and then he was kissing her in earnest and with an innate skill that left her reeling.

As his tongue penetrated and twined languidly with hers, everything but the ecstasy evaporated. His kiss was hot and deep and thrilling. When his head angled down and body ironed up against hers, she only surrendered more. His superior weight eased her over and back until she lay flat beneath him.

With their mouths still locked, a satisfied noise rumbled in his chest as one arm haloed her head and the other hand held and gently directed her chin. Her splayed fingers found their way over the broad dome of his back while her foot—its slipper now lost—dragged curling toes up his hard leg and her hips pressed up longingly. She was drowning, dying in some perfect wicked dream. When the kiss deepened more and he ground against her, his arousal pressed into her belly and she groaned and reached down.

A log crumpled and fell into its bed of hot ash. The hiss of sparks flying brought her back with a start. When she turned her head, broke the kiss, his head came up.

His breathing was labored and his heavy gaze uncommonly dark. No hint of understanding or restraint marked in his expression. As he hovered above her, all she saw, and felt, was resolve.

An audible rumble vibrated from his chest as his gaze lowered to devour her lips and his head gradually dropped again. Uncertain, Trinity held herself still. She’d gotten carried away, too, but did she really want to make love to a man she was supposed to despise—particularly with a baby sleeping a few feet away?

His parted lips stopped a hairbreadth from hers. The walls receded as she swallowed deeply and the ground seemed to sink away beneath her. Then, on a real growl, he clenched his jaw and rolled away. Trinity’s heart fell at the same instant her throat clogged with a dozen different emotions. He was disappointed. Frustrated. She was sorry she’d led him on, if that’s what had happened, but he’d just have to deal with the sting of rejection like most of the population.

Then a powerful arm scooped under her shoulders and Trinity’s heart skipped two beats as he drew her mercilessly near, half on top of him. His body was beyond hard, as if a thousand steel links had locked him into place. She felt vulnerable, still wanting him, but also a thousand times decided. She might be physically attracted to him, more than she’d been to any man, but she hadn’t come here for sex. And she intended to leave this house with that assertion intact. Regret lasted longer than pleasure.

She was about to tell him again—no—but as that tense moment passed into another, he didn’t try to kiss her again. He simply lay there, stiff on his back, his arm holding her close, fingers beginning to drift up and down the silk of her sleeve.

“Does this qualify as snuggling?” he asked.

“Put me back down and I’ll tell you.”

He considered it then eased her over until she lay beside him. Resting on an elbow, his cheek balanced in a palm, he gazed down at her. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He nodded and when his arm reached under and brought her gently over, she didn’t resist. Making love might be out of the question, but she wasn’t made of stone. What harm could come from cuddling with a man-god on a chilly night?

As her cheek gradually lowered to rest against the hard plateau of his T-shirt-covered chest, Trinity let out a long end-of-the-day breath, listened to his heart thumping like he’d run a mile and closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when a thought struck and her eyes flew open.

Damn it. She’d never made that call to New York.