down. She’d come home, turned off every light and gone to bed, probably sending him a silent message to stay away from her.
“Message received,” he said as he hurried to the door of his cottage, getting soaked along the way, and pulled out his key.
Buddy always laughed at him for locking the door since they were out in the middle of nowhere, but the big-city habit was too ingrained. He found himself wondering, though, if he’d really been out of it when he’d left earlier this evening for the hospital. Because the knob twisted easily in his hand. He must have forgotten to lock it.
Letting himself in, he reached for the switch on the wall and flipped it up. Nothing.
“Oh, God,” he mumbled, suddenly realizing why the world was so dark. The power was notoriously unreliable in high winds, and his was probably out.
He waited for his eyes to adjust, before making his way across the big room that dominated the main floor of the cottage. It served as both living room and kitchen, the two separated by a stone fireplace that opened on either side. It was a great feature and he’d used it and nothing else to heat the place during the winter. Looked like it was going to come in handy tonight, too, both for heat and for illumination.
Before he moved to light it, he thought about Candace. She was alone in that huge house. That huge drafty house with its spiders, crickets, cracked window casings and frigid tile floors. No lights, no heat, no hot water—which was pretty well par for the course—and he’d bet the phones were out.
“Better go check on her,” he mumbled.
Grabbing the coat he’d just placed on the hook, he began to put it on. But he hadn’t even gotten one arm in a sleeve when he heard a soft, feminine voice coming from the sofa on the other side of the room.
“You don’t have to check on her. She’s right here.”
CANDACE HAD ONLY been waiting for Oliver for a few minutes—since just after she’d gotten back, realized the power was out and decided his cozy cottage with the fireplace would be a better place to ride out the storm. But that had been long enough for her to decide she’d made a mistake.
Sitting here in the dark, in his space, had been more disturbing than comforting. The whole place smelled like him—all musky, spicy and hot. Utterly masculine. Her body reacted to the scent even before her mind could put it together and figure out it wasn’t just the cold making her nipples hard.
She also worried how he would react to finding her there, in the dark, and what he would make of her presence. He was a private person; it had taken him days to even admit to her that he was really an attorney. He probably wouldn’t take kindly to her using Buddy’s keys to let herself in and make herself at home. She suddenly felt a little like Goldilocks. Add a broken chair and a few bowls of porridge and she might come face-to-face with an angry bear.
She’d decided to leave, to brave the cold and the darkness in the main house, when she heard him pull up outside. Her chance to escape was gone. She had to stay and brazen it out.
“Candace?”
“It sure isn’t Goldilocks,” she muttered.
He hung his coat back up and approached, moving carefully in the darkness. She’d been here longer; her eyes had adjusted, so she could easily see him moving toward her. His hair was wet, dark strands sticking to his unsmiling face.
“How did you get in?”
“I’m sorry. I used Buddy’s key. I know it was rude.”
“And illegal.”
Twisting her hands in front of her, she rose from the couch. “I was freaked out. That place is spooky enough when it’s daylight. I kept picturing spiders lurking in every corner.”
“Not the ghost of Fatty Arbuckle stalking you?”
“Oh, great, thanks. That makes me feel tons better!”
“I’m surprised you know who I was referring to.”
“Hello, movie biz, remember? Was he one of your greatgrandpa’s cronies?”
“They did a few films together,” he said.
Very cool.
“Let me brighten things up a little in here.”
He headed for the kitchen. She heard him fumble with something, and a moment later, a soft light spotlighted his handsome face. He came back carrying a thick candle, which he placed on the coffee table.
“So, do you want me to leave?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s coming down in buckets. You’d be soaked to the skin with no way to warm up.”
True. “I can stay?”
“Yes. Sit down. I’ll light a fire.”
“That would be wonderful.”
She curled up on the couch again, watching him. Fortunately he’d had logs and kindling already set in the fireplace, and they sparked quickly. Within minutes, the small space was benefiting from the heat created by the blaze, and the room was enveloped in a lovely golden glow.
She took the opportunity to look around a bit, knowing he’d only been here a few months, but sensing he’d taken steps to make the place his own. There were some nonfiction books on the mantel, along with a few thrillers. No pictures on the walls, but a couple of framed family type snapshots stood on the end table. Some colorful pillows were tossed on the furniture, and the thick rug in front of the hearth looked new and cozy.
She’d definitely seen worse bachelor pads.
“Better?”
“Much, thank you.”
He fell silent again, and she felt that tension between them that had appeared in the restaurant, after she’d gone to the ladies’ room. Compared to his friendliness before she’d left, she couldn’t help thinking something had happened. As she’d driven home, she’d half wondered if he’d made some assignation with the waitress and just wanted to be rid of her. She couldn’t deny she’d held her breath waiting to hear him come home, and was pleased he had, even if it had meant she was trapped and busted as a home invader.
He finally broke the silence. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“Oh?”
He sat on the floor, near the fireplace, on that thick rug. His long jeans-clad legs were stretched in front of him, booted feet casually crossed. The jeans pulled tight on those powerful thighs. She again noted how built he was, obviously not from any L.A. gym lifestyle but from his physically demanding job.
“Yeah. Earlier tonight, at the bar, one of the guys in the next booth told me you’d been on the phone before I arrived, having a very intimate conversation.”
She laughed. “Of course I was—intentionally! My best friend called, and I was trying really hard to make it sound like he was my boyfriend, so they would stop pestering me.”
He dropped his head back, shaking
