He stumbled from the sofa and into the bedroom, adrenaline surging and heart pounding. He flipped on the overhead light and instantly realized Jane was in the middle of a nightmare. She thrashed on the bed, flailing her arms and legs as if fighting for her life.
Sammy cried out, too, and his eyes fluttered open, but he settled back to sleep, as if accustomed to his mother having bad dreams. “Jane,” Dalton called softly.
She moaned, whipping her head from side to side, but she didn’t open her eyes. He approached her, trying not to notice that the sheets had slipped down to her waist and the pale blue silk nightgown she wore did little to hide her full breasts.
The fight or flight adrenaline that had filled him at the sound of her scream now transformed to another kind of energy as a surge of desire struck him midsection.
“Jane,” he said again as he moved closer to the edge of the bed. Still she didn’t respond. He was going to have to touch that soft-looking pale skin and he knew he was going to find it far too pleasant.
“Jane, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He leaned over and took her by the shoulders.
Her eyelids snapped open and she looked at him, wildness in the depths of her eyes. She stared at him and the wildness left as recognition struck. She released a little gasp and to his surprise launched herself out of the bed and into his embrace.
She trembled in his arms and sobbed silently into the crook of his neck. He tentatively slid a hand down the cool material that covered her back. “Shh, it was just a dream,” he said softly.
It would be easier to comfort her if he wasn’t bare-chested, if he wasn’t so intensely aware of every point where her bare skin made contact with his.
She raised her face to look at him. Her eyes were misty with tears but her full lips parted as if in invitation or some kind of strange desperation.
He didn’t think about kissing her ahead of time. He didn’t consciously plan to. It just happened. One minute he was gazing at her face and the next minute his mouth covered hers. He didn’t just kiss her, she kissed him back, her mouth opening against his as he pulled her closer to him.
The kiss lasted only a second or two, then she pulled away from him, a horrified look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, her cheeks blossoming with high color.
“No…I’m sorry,” he replied stiffly. “You were screaming and obviously having a nightmare and I…I just meant to wake you.”
She released a breathless, embarrassed laugh. “I’m definitely awake.”
“Then I’ll just…uh…let you go back to sleep.” Dalton backed out of the room, afraid that if he remained another minute longer he’d want to kiss her again.
What was he doing? he wondered as he threw himself back on the sofa. Every nerve in his body was electrified, every muscle tense. His response to that kiss stunned him. He knew virtually nothing about Jane Craig except that her skin had been soft as silk and her lips had been hot and willing.
It was possible by tomorrow she’d be gone. It was even more certain that he didn’t want to be involved with her. He didn’t want to know what she dreamed about, he didn’t want to share his life with her in any way, shape or form. It had been wrong to kiss her, because all he could think about now was how much he wanted to kiss her again.
He fell asleep dreaming of the sweet heat of her mouth and awakened the next morning stiff and sore from the night on the sofa. He got up, nearly tripping over Sammy’s diaper bag on the floor. He swallowed a curse.
By the time he’d made coffee, some of the stiffness of his muscles had begun to ease, as had his foul mood. He sat at the table, his hands wrapped around a mug of fresh brew. Even though it wasn’t quite seven o’clock he could hear the sounds of plows already at work.
Maybe the bus would come this afternoon, he thought. That would be a good thing. He could see Jane and Sammy to the bus stop, wish them well on their way, then return to his solitary life without temptation. And Jane Craig had become a definite temptation.
He still sat at the table with thoughts of Jane when a knock sounded on his door. He jumped up from the table and hurried to answer. He pulled open the door to see his brother Zack standing on his landing, his gloved hands holding a shovel.
“Hey, bro, just thought I’d check in to see if you survived the storm. I just finished clearing off the driveway and your car and thought you might have a hot cup of coffee for me.”
Dalton held the door tightly. Please, please don’t tell anyone I’m here. Jane’s words pounded in his head as he stared at his brother. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “And you don’t want to come in here, Zack,” he finally said. “I’ve got the flu, been throwing up off and on all night.”
Zack frowned and took a step backward as if to avoid any germs floating in the air between them. “You need anything? We’ve about got all the major roads cleared in town and some of the stores are opening this morning.”
“Nah, I’m fine. I just think I might be contagious so it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to come inside, but I really appreciate you cleaning off the driveway. I’m sure George appreciates it, too. I’d love for you to come in, but I’m really not feeling well.” Dalton couldn’t tell if Zack believed him or not but he breathed a sigh of relief as Zack backed down the stairs, promising to check in on him later.
Dalton closed the door, hating the fact that he’d lied to his brother for reasons he didn’t quite understand. If Jane’s abusive ex-boyfriend had somehow tracked her to Cotter Creek, then why on earth would it matter if the local sheriff knew about it?
He turned to see Jane standing in the bedroom doorway, Sammy in her arms. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me. I’m not happy about lying to my family.” He walked back into the kitchen, aware of her following just behind him.
When he saw that she was about to prepare a bottle for Sammy, he held out his hands to take the kid from her arms. As always, Sammy looked delighted to see him. He launched himself into Dalton’s arms with a big grin that lit up his entire little face.
“Is this kid ever in a bad mood?” Dalton asked as he sat in a chair. Sammy smelled like baby powder and lotion, a pleasant scent that reminded Dalton of dreams half-forgotten and abandoned.
“Rarely,” she replied, moving to the sink. As she stood with her back to him he couldn’t help but notice again the tight fit of her worn jeans across her butt. She had a great butt. Besides the jeans she wore a pink sweater that hugged her slender curves and complemented her blond coloring.
She fixed the bottle, then took Sammy from his arms and sat in the chair next to his, her hair falling softly around her shoulders. “If the streets are clear enough maybe it would be best if I found someplace else to go until the bus runs again.”
She looked so small, so utterly vulnerable, and at that moment Sammy smiled at him around his bottle’s nipple, the gesture sending a stream of formula down the side of his mouth.
“That isn’t necessary,” he replied. “Zack just told me the streets are practically clear, so I imagine that the bus will run tomorrow.”
“Good.”
