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
