Читать книгу Christmas at the Cove - Rachel Brimble - Страница 9

PROLOGUE

Summer, Three Years Earlier

THE DOOR OF The Coast Inn swung open and Carrie looked up from her shot at the pool table. The stranger in the doorway was tall and broad, his face in shadow as the freak summer downpour flowed in torrents behind him. She straightened, inexplicable tension lifting the hairs at the back of her neck. The reggae track that blasted from the jukebox faded, and the chattering laughter all around her subsided.

He stepped inside the bar and shook the rain from his dark hair, pushing his fingers through the wet strands. She tried to drag her gaze away but instead openly stared at his wide, powerfully built chest. He didn’t wear a jacket and muscles rippled beneath translucent white cotton. Her gaze wandered lower over his flat stomach to linger shamelessly at his groin encased in blue jeans.

“Carrie? What’s wrong?”

Carrie blinked and plastered on a wide smile. She turned and met Michaela’s slightly wine-glazed stare. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m working out my strategy for this next shot.” She focused on the task at hand, her grasp trembling around the cue. “Hold on to your hat. You’re going down.”

She shot the ball and missed by inches.

Michaela gave an inelegant snort. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got this game in the bag.”

Carrie shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fine, let’s see if you can do any better.”

She stepped back when Michaela elbowed her out of the way. The music and chatter had re-emerged and Carrie breathed a little easier. With her friend’s back turned, she looked at the stranger again. He faced away from her, laughing with the bartender as he snapped the top off a beer bottle and slid it across the bar. When her object of fascination lifted the bottle to his lips, the skin at his throat shifted and moved as he drank, hitching every nerve in Carrie’s body to high alert.

Never in her life had she looked at a guy and wanted to keep looking like she did now. I have to talk to him. Her head swam with too much wine and too little food. What else could be the cause of this momentary lapse in the sensible and steady personality she’d worn with ease her entire adult life?

She was here for a fun weekend with her girlfriends. A hardworking, ambitious woman working as a TV producer for a national network. A woman who went through life with methodical precision. A woman who dated and carefully considered...who never leaped into bed with a guy she’d only just seen.

So why did she want to do exactly that?

She couldn’t think past walking over to him, sliding her hand into his and leading him out of the bar to the hotel where she and her friends were staying.

She swallowed and hungrily ran her gaze over the back of his head, continuing her perusal. Muscles flexed and relaxed beneath his shirt; his butt was firm...the side of his thigh muscular and thick. Her body yearned with a desire she couldn’t explain.

He turned and her breath lodged in her throat.

Their eyes locked and his laughter came to an abrupt stop. His smile dissolved as the beer bottle hovered at his mouth and everything quieted once more. She tried to move, to turn and rejoin her friends, but her feet remained welded to the wood flooring.

With his eyes still on hers, he put the bottle on the bar and stepped toward her. Panic rushed through Carrie and she shot a glance over her shoulder. Her three friends watched him approach, their cheeks flushed and their eyes agog. Carrie’s heart pounded and her mouth drained dry. She turned to face him.

He stopped directly in front of her and she tipped her head back to look into his eyes. In the muted light, they shone a bright blue, striking against his deep olive skin. His gaze roamed over her face, down to her breasts and back again.

She wet her lips and forced a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The seconds beat like minutes before he took another step closer. “I’m Scott.”

“Carrie.”

“I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m visiting for a few days.” She glanced behind her. “These are my friends.”

He turned to Michaela and the others and dipped his head before facing Carrie once more. “You look as though you’re having a good time.”

She lifted her chin, forced nonchalance into her stance. “I am. Templeton seems a nice place.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Until tomorrow.”

His gaze bored into hers. “Then we don’t have much time.”

She stiffened. No. He can’t mean... She huffed out a laugh. “For what?”

His eyes gleamed. “You know what.”

She crossed her arms to hide the trembling, to stop from reaching up and grabbing his jaw to bring his lips to hers. “Do I?”

“We need to get out of here.”

Oh, my God. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Carrie glanced toward Michaela and the others and bit back a bubble of nervous laughter. Her friends wore identical, jaw-dropped expressions of fascination. “I can’t just leave—”

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who lives to other people’s schedules.” His gaze glided over her face in a steady, soft caress that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. A way she’d never felt her entire life. He lifted his shoulders. “Or maybe I’m wrong.”

Carrie drew in a long breath as her habitual need to maintain control rose. He’s a player. Walk away. Go back to your friends. “You’re right, but I don’t know you.”

His gaze darkened and settled at her mouth. “Ditto.”

“Then I should stay here.”

He lifted his gaze to hers and said nothing.

Time stood still as her heart beat fast and her mind whirled. How could she not go? Every nerve in her body screamed for this man; every second that passed felt wasted. She waited for the rush of her returning sanity, but instead, relief swam through her. Relief he’d suggested they leave together first, that this madness was his idea, not hers. Could she do this? Just go with him and to hell with the consequences?

“Do you do this often?” She lifted an eyebrow, going for the breezy rather than the terrified. “Approach women in bars and ask them to leave with you?”

“Never. You’re the first.”

She looked into his eyes and nothing but sincerity shone back. God, she wanted to go with him. Desperately. “You could be an axe-murderer for all I know.”

She said the words, but no part of her was afraid of this man. Instead, she wanted to comfort him, to soothe the deep frustration emanating from him. The look in his eyes wasn’t full of male ego but intense inquiry, mixed with a hint of disbelief that she understood only too well in that moment.

He exhaled. “I could be, but I’m not. I’ll look after you, Carrie. I promise.” He raised his hand. “Scott’s honor.”

Her stomach knotted and laughter bubbled in her throat once more. “Well, in that case...” She smiled, still apprehensive. “I’ll grab my purse.”

For the first time since he’d left his barstool, he smiled. A smile so soft, she sensed his mutual relief. Sensed he was as unsure about what he was doing as she was. On shaking legs, Carrie approached her friends and glanced at each of them in turn, desperate for the words to explain she had to make love to this stranger or regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted him to take her and feel the weight of his body pressed down on hers. She wanted to smell him, touch him and hear him groan.

She focused on Michaela, her best friend and only hope of being understood.

Michaela frowned. “Carrie?”

Carrie smiled, even though nerves and doubt danced in her stomach. “I have to go with him.”

She moved to walk away, but Michaela gripped her wrist. “You don’t know this guy.”

Aware of Scott watching, Carrie pulled back her shoulders. “But I will.”

“Carrie—”

“I have to do this.” She eased her arm from her friend’s grip. “I’ll call you. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of hours, call the police.” She winked and pushed away the seriousness of the implication.

“That’s not funny.” Michaela glanced toward Scott before facing Carrie again. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you, but for God’s sake, call me later so I know you’re okay.”

Carrie smiled even as unease rippled through her. Michaela’s concern was justified. Wouldn’t she have been saying the same things to her friend if the roles were reversed? She squeezed Michaela’s hand. “I will. I promise.”

After a final worried look in Scott’s direction, Michaela smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Then get out of here.”

Grinning, Carrie faced Scott. “Ready?”

He nodded. Her heart stuttered, but still Carrie slipped her hand into his and led him from the bar.

* * *

HER SKIN WAS like smoldering silk beneath his hands. Scott relished his exploration over her back and along the bumps of her spine and ribs as she lay facedown on the hotel bed. Her body delicately quivered and a soft mew whispered from her lips. He burned it all into his memory because there was every chance this would be their single time together. An event never to be repeated.

The tension in her shoulders when he smoothed his fingers across them and the way her toes remained curled against the mattress spoke of a woman doing something alien to her. The thought he’d never see her again sent panic ricocheting through him, but he had no right to expect more. He’d approached her. He was the one who’d been pulled from his barstool as though hypnotized.

He was no angel. He enjoyed the chase and the conquer. This was neither. He was hers for the taking. The feeling was unwanted...and scary as hell. For the first time in his life, it was important he found a way for a woman to entirely trust him...to understand he’d take care of her. That he wouldn’t walk away from her as he had others.

A crack of summer lightning lit the peach-and-cream hotel room and she stiffened beneath his fingers. He smiled. “Shh.”

Her body relaxed into the mattress. The drapes lifted as the wind gathered ferocity and washed into the room through the open window. When the sun had burned hot that afternoon, he wouldn’t have believed they’d need to seek shelter from this seemingly impenetrable storm. He swallowed. How could he have imagined any of this?

He didn’t pick women up in bars and sleep with them. He dated them, romanced them and ensured they had a good time whenever they were with him. He didn’t understand nor need the unspoken seriousness of his reaction to Carrie. She mattered. Something in her eyes spoke to his heart. It was as though he already knew her...and she possessed the power to change his life in the blink of an eye. He laughed, joked, played pool and hung with the boys. He didn’t fall in love.

He’d been struck; caught in her invisible snare.

Yet despite the emotional risks to his heart, he didn’t leave her bed. He didn’t gather his discarded clothes and escape the room in a bid to salvage what was left of his sanity. He continued to touch her. Adore every damn inch of her.

She’d shaken her long, blond hair from its clip the moment they stepped inside, her brown eyes boring into his, dark with desire. Carrie. The urge to say her name over and over rose to his tongue and he swallowed it down. He wanted to know where she came from...and, more important, would she stay with him.

But he wouldn’t push her. Her need to be in control permeated the room. If he didn’t let her lead this moment, it could be over before it began and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

He sensed her tension, her confusion and it was equally as potent as his. His heart hammered and his cock hardened as he smoothed his hand lower over the dimples at the base of her spine to the soft curve of her ass. She stretched beneath his touch, languishing like a panther against the stroke of his fingers. Scott clenched his jaw. He sensed one wrong move on his part and the spell would be broken.

But for now she was his.

Something had gripped them both, and its claws dug deep. Her hair was thick and long, almost reaching to her waist, her figure the hourglass perfection akin to Marilyn Monroe. Unbelievable curves in all the right places. She had the sexiest body he’d ever had the honor to touch. He didn’t need to question if doing something like this, with him, was in any way the norm for her. Her insecurity showed over and over in the flashes of doubt that whipped across her gaze, before she blinked and they were replaced with determination.

He didn’t dare question her reasoning for fear he wouldn’t like the answer. The moment he laid eyes on her, fate had reached in and gripped his damn heart.

She turned over and his gaze dropped to her full, creamy white breasts. He smoothed his thumb across one pink nipple and then the other. They instantly hardened. He smiled softly and met her huge eyes in the semidarkness. They were wide with wonderment, yet confident and sexy as hell.

“I want to make love with you.” She reached up and smoothed the fallen hair from his brow. “Then you leave. Can you do that?”

No. I can’t leave. I can’t not look at you or touch you again. He looked deep into her eyes, desperate to understand her. “Why?”

“It has to be this way. I have things I want, things I need to do. I can’t give or promise you anything.” She closed her eyes. “I need to hear you’re okay with that. Otherwise this stops now.”

What the hell was going on here? It was usually he who laid the ground rules so a woman didn’t get hurt, he that made them understand he wasn’t the type of guy they wanted to hang around with too long. Yet now, with Carrie...he swallowed. He had no idea how he’d leave. Scott’s heart beat fast, but he held her steady gaze. “I won’t ask you for anything.”

She smiled softly and opened her eyes. “Good.”

His gut knotted with regret as a woman turned the tables on him for the first time. He wanted her. All of her. He slid his gaze from her face to glide languidly over her body. His heart twisted. She’d been honest, which was a quality he held above all others. This was about tonight and tonight only for her. He’d deal with the aftermath because not doing this, not taking her while he could, wasn’t an option. He met her eyes. “Will I see you again?”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, but her gaze never wavered. “I don’t know.”

Pain hit his chest but still he nodded. “Okay.” Scott let the silken strands of her hair drift through his fingers, and inhaled a long breath. “I haven’t the time for a relationship right now, either.” Liar. You’d make time for her. “My life...is stressful, to say the least.” He looked deep into her eyes, hating the way he wanted to keep her with him. He smiled. “I’ll make love to you and then leave.”

He lowered his lips to hers and she surprised him when she met his kiss with ardent intensity. Their tongues explored and dominated, surrendered and resisted. They touched each other’s skin. Caressed, rubbed and teased. Scott’s blood pumped fast and hot; his penis ached and his balls tightened. She consumed him.

His entire being had come alive with an electricity only she could ground.

“Now. I want you now.” Her breath rasped against the side of his face.

He slid his fingers through her delicate patch of pubic hair and found her hot, wet and ready. He massaged her and she shook her head, her cheeks flushed, her teeth clenched. “Now, Scott. Please.”

The desperation in her voice stroked his ego and confidence bloomed, where moments before it had wavered. He leaned over the bed and snatched a condom from the side table. He sheathed himself, moved over her and hovered. When her gaze locked on his, he slid deep inside her silky warmth. She closed her eyes and he thrust deep, drew back and thrust again, intent on taking them to a place neither would forget. He clenched his jaw, his heart hammering. God, don’t let her forget me...