gave a crooked smile. His hands were on her upper arms, steadying her. “Don’t be. I like goodnight hugs.”
She’d noticed. She stared at him. “I…” She couldn’t even think of what she was trying to say.
“Come on, let me walk you to your room.”
She drew back some more. “No, no. I’m fine, really.” She turned quickly. “Goodnight,” she managed.
“Goodnight, Samantha.” Did she hear amusement in his voice? She wasn’t sure.
Am I nuts? she asked herself as she lay in bed. Should I just be going to sleep with that stranger roaming free in the house? A stranger she had unintentionally managed to get sexually excited. Sam groaned into her pillow. Did she believe what he’d said, that he was Andrew’s cousin?
Well, he did look like Andrew, actually. They both were dark and tall, both had that air of confidence and command. They could have been brothers instead of cousins. Which proved nothing about David’s purity of character and intentions. What was he doing here, anyway? She hadn’t even asked. What was the matter with her? Where was her brain?
She pulled the sheet up over her head. She didn’t care where it was. All she cared about now was some sleep. Deep, restorative sleep.
Birdsong awoke her the next morning. The room was full of sunshine. For a moment she lay basking in it like a lazy cat, then she leaped out of bed. The car! She needed to get gas. She was late!
The man! There was a strange man in the house. Her heart turned over as disturbing memories flashed through her mind. The scent of his skin, the feel of his hard body against her. She took a deep breath. She had no time to think about that now. She didn’t even want to think about it whether she had time or not.
She had a quick shower, dressed in a navy skirt and a white blouse, twisted her hair on top of her head, put some lipstick on, got her things together and rushed to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee greeted her, and she noticed David in shorts and T-shirt sitting on the deck reading the paper, looking as if he owned the place, looking as if he had all the time in the world. Well, maybe he had. He came to his feet when he caught sight of her, wishing her a good morning. He followed her into the kitchen.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes, and I apologize for the…er…Victorian virgin routine last night,” she added before she could think about it. She glanced away. “I really didn’t mean to…uh—”
“Neither did I,” he said smoothly. “Breakfast? I’ll do the honors.”
Cool as a cucumber, he was; she had to admire that. She shook her head. “I’ve got to run. I’m late.”
“You’re out of gas,” he reminded her.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I know.” She poured herself some coffee. “I’m going to take Susan’s car to get some gas, put it in mine, bring back hers, walk back to mine and leave.”
“Much too complicated,” he stated in a no-nonsense tone. “I’ll come with you. That’ll save you the hike back to your car.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Of course I don’t have to.” He put a piece of wholegrain bread in the toaster. “But I will.”
It would be a big help, of course, yet his take-charge attitude irritated her.
“Why?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you always so suspicious?”
She shrugged and sipped the coffee. It was wonderful, very strong and flavorful. “When it comes to men, yes.” Her words surprised her—she wasn’t normally so confrontational with strangers, yet this man had an odd effect on her equilibrium. And she felt defensive about her idiotic move of practically fainting in his arms last night and the embarrassing result.
“Sorry to hear that.” He reached for his cup. “Did you have a bad experience for which all men will pay for ever and ever?”
She stared at him, feeling an odd quiver of fear. Had he guessed? Could he tell?
She thought of Jason, who’d left her stranded with a newborn baby. They’d married right out of high school and Jason had wanted nothing more than for them to have a baby right away. Yet four months after Kevin was born he’d had enough of fatherhood, packed up and left. Three days later he’d died in a construction accident, leaving her a widow at nineteen with a tiny baby to care for. She couldn’t believe what had happened to her, to him. How could he have left her and the baby he’d said he wanted so much? He’d planned and saved, saying he made enough money as a construction worker for them to afford a baby; really, there was no need to wait until she’d finished college and had a job, too. It had taken a long time before she’d ever understood Jason’s true motivation for wanting a baby, and it hadn’t really had anything to do with fatherhood. It’d had everything to do with sabotaging her education because he’d felt threatened by her ambition. Not that he would have ever owned up to such a feeling of inadequacy.
Things had not been what they seemed. Jason had had a side to him she hadn’t known. It terrified her to realize how foolish and naïve she had been to allow herself to be manipulated by him, how little she had understood him, herself.
And here was David, asking if she’d had a bad experience as if he could see straight into her soul.
She took a sip of the hot coffee. “I’m just not terribly trusting,” she said, trying to sound casual about it. “That’s all.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, my motives for wanting to be helpful are based on the fact that I prefer peace over war. Since we’re going to be sharing this house and this kitchen, it appears to me that being able to get along is not a bad idea.” He smiled. “So, if you’ll find the keys to Susan’s car, we can get going and solve your little gas problem.”
Sometimes her imagination got in the way. It had been well-applied when Kevin was little and she’d spent hours telling him fantastic tales she’d just made up on the spot, wild stories and adventures he had loved hearing. Her active imagination was not necessarily a blessing now, but there it was. What if this guy wasn’t who he said he was? What if he was a sophisticated, clever con man? What if he took off in Susan’s car? What if he emptied out the house after she’d gone to work? She grew suddenly hot and cold with trepidation. She had taken on responsibility for her friend’s house and possessions. Shouldn’t she do something?
“Do you have some form of identification?” she heard herself ask. “I was so tired last night I couldn’t see straight.” He probably was not used to having his identity, or his command questioned, but if it made him angry then so be it.
His mouth quirked, or maybe she imagined it. Without comment he whipped a leather wallet out of his back pocket and produced a driver’s license.
David Colin McMillan, it said. And even on the picture he was drop-dead gorgeous. Nobody looked good on a driver’s license mugshot.
“So, where’s your car?” she asked, aware her body was tense. It wasn’t easy questioning this big, intimidating man now that she was in full control of her faculties. “I didn’t see one in the drive when I came home last night.”
“Don’t
