Montana Passions: Stranded With the Groom / All He Ever Wanted / Prescription: Love. Allison Leigh
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had a problem. And he knew it.
There was something about her. Something soft and giving. Something tender and gentle and smart and funny…and sexy, too. All at the same time.
Something purely feminine.
Something that really got to him.
Every hour he spent with her, he wanted her more. It was starting to get damn tough—keeping it friendly. Not pushing too fast.
Too fast? He restrained a snort of heavy irony liberally laced with his own sexual frustration.
Too fast implied there would be satisfaction.
There wouldn’t be. And he damn well had to keep that in mind.
Even if she said yes to him, there was no way he was taking her to bed while they were locked in here.
He couldn’t afford that. Not without protection. And though the bags in the storage room seemed to have no end of useful items in them, what they didn’t have were condoms.
He knew because he’d actually checked to see if they did.
And since he’d checked, he’d found himself thinking constantly of all the ways a man and a woman could enjoy each other sexually short of actual consummation.
He grabbed up a card to move it—and then couldn’t resist stealing another look.
She’d rinsed away most of the flowery-scented shampoo, but there was a tiny froth of it left on her earlobe. She rinsed all around it, but somehow the water never quite reached it.
He gritted his teeth to keep from telling her to get that bit of lather on her ear. He ordered his body to stay in that chair. Every nerve seemed to sizzle.
Damned if he wasn’t getting hard.
Ridiculous, he thought. This has to stop…
He looked down at the card in his hand—the jack of spades—and couldn’t even remember what he’d meant to do with it.
This was bad. Real bad.
Some kind of dark justice?
Hell. Probably.
He meant to use her as another way to get to Caleb. Too bad he hadn’t realized how powerfully—and swiftly—she would end up getting to him.
At last, she tipped her head enough that the water flowed over that spot on her ear. The little dab of lather rinsed away and down the drain.
Late that afternoon, Justin went out to the front of the museum to stoke the fire in the stove. Katie busied herself in the kitchen, putting away the few dishes that stood drying on the drain mat, wiping the table and the counters. The tasks were simple ones, easily accomplished.
After she rinsed the sponge and set it in the little tray by the sink, she found herself drawn to the window. She wandered over and stood there watching the snow falling through the graying light, wondering how long it would be until they could dig out, until the old mare in the shed got a little room to stretch her legs and a nice, big bucket of oats.
Justin returned from the front room. She glanced over and gave him a smile and went back to gazing out at the white world beyond the glass.
He went to the sink. She heard the water running, was aware of his movements as he washed his hands and then reached for the towel. A moment later, she heard his approach, though she didn’t turn to watch him come toward her.
It was so still out there. Snowy and silent. The museum sat at the corner, where Elk Avenue turned east. There was a full acre to either side, free of structures—what had, years ago, been part of the schoolyard. Katie could see the shadowy outline of the first house beyond the museum property. The Lockwoods lived there—a young couple with two children, a boy and a girl, eight and nine: Jeff and Kaylin, both nice kids. Kaylin loved to read. She and Jeff always attended the library’s weekly children’s story hour, run by Emelda Ross.
There was a light on in the Lockwood house, the gleam of it just visible, through the veil of falling snow. Katie hoped the Lockwoods were safe in there, with a cozy fire and plenty to eat.
“Katie…” Justin brushed a hand against her shoulder. The warm thrill his touch brought lightened her spirits—at least a little. “Watching it won’t make it stop coming down.”
She thought of the noisy beer drinkers back at the hall, of dear old Emelda, who’d stuck it out when all the other members of the Historical Society had left. “I was just thinking of everyone back at the hall. I hope they’re all safe.”
“They had food, didn’t they?”
She looked from all that blinding white to the man beside her. “Yes. The potluck, remember? People brought all those casseroles.”
“So they’ll get by.” He gave her a steady look, a look meant to reassure. “They have food. And restrooms. Water—and the sidewalks on Main are all covered. That’s going to make it a lot easier for them to get out than it will be for us.”
He was right. She added, “And the first place the snowplow will be working is up and down Main.”
“See? They’ll be okay.”
But there were others—the ones who’d left the hall before Katie and Justin. “What about the people who left for home? We don’t even know if they all made it.”
He took her by the shoulders—firmly, but gently. His touch caused the usual reactions: butterflies in her stomach, a certain warmth lower down…
“Katie, you can’t do anything about it. We just have to make the best of a tough situation. And so will everyone else.”
In her mind’s eye, she saw Addy’s dear long, aristocratic face, her sparkling blue eyes and her prim little smile—and then she pictured Caleb, in that white Stetson he liked to wear, a corner of his mouth quirked up in his rascal’s grin. “I don’t even know where Addy and Caleb went. One minute they were there, in the hall, and then, when we were up there on the stage, just before the ‘Reverend’ Green stepped up, I looked out over the crowd and I didn’t see either of them.”
“They probably went home. Or maybe you just didn’t spot them and they’re both still there. Either way, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Just let yourself believe they’re safe—which, most likely, they are.”
“But if—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Worrying about them won’t help them. All it’ll do is make you miserable.”
“But I only—”
“It’ll be okay.” He shook her, lightly. “Got it?”
She made herself give him a nod.
He studied her for a long moment. Then he demanded, “Why the hell do you still look so worried, then?”
She only shrugged. What was there to say? He was right. There was no point in worrying. But when she thought of Addy and Caleb—when she looked at the Lockwood’s faint light across the snow-covered museum yard—she simply couldn’t help it.
“Hey,” Justin murmured. “Hey, come on…” He pulled her to him.
She didn’t even consider resisting—why should she? Maybe she’d had her doubts about him at first. But gently and tenderly, he’d dispelled her reservations. She knew she could trust him now.
He wrapped those long, hard arms around her and she pressed herself close to him, tucking her head under his chin, laying her ear against the leaping reindeers on the front of his sweater, right over his heart, which beat steady and strong, if a little too fast. She smiled to herself—a woman’s smile. His embrace brought more comfort than words could. And the sound of his heartbeat, racing in time to hers?
That wasn’t comforting, not in the least. That sound