they’d both used, of his clean skin and a faint hint of the inexpensive aftershave he’d found in the brown bag. “I know I keep saying it,” he muttered against her hair. “I just don’t seem to be listening to myself when I say it.”
She lifted her head and captured his blue, blue gaze again. Boldly, she suggested, “We could just go ahead and slip under the rope. We could kick off our shoes, stretch out on the bed…”
His arms dropped away. “And then what?”
She swallowed. “Well, and then, we could…take it from there.”
“Take it from there,” he repeated, gruffly. “I’d like that. Way too much. But we can’t lose our heads here. We’ve got to be sensible.”
Now she was the one repeating after him. “Sensible.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I have to admit, I don’t feel all that sensible recently. Not since I met you.”
That brought a smile to his beautiful mouth. “All my fault, then.”
She tipped her chin higher. “No. This thing between us, it’s fifty-fifty. You’re not leading me anywhere I don’t want to go.”
He studied her face for a long moment—long enough that she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks. And then he said flatly, “I’ve got no condoms. I don’t suppose you do?”
“Uh. No. Sorry.” She looked down, not embarrassed, exactly, but definitely feeling in over her head.
He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him again. “It’s something that has to be considered.”
“Oh, I know. You’re right. I just…well, we could be careful, couldn’t we?”
He swore under his breath. “I keep telling myself the same thing. But I don’t feel all that damn careful, and that’s the hard truth. Once I get my arms around you, caution flies right out the door.”
“I could…be cautious for us.” Even as she suggested it, she knew that wouldn’t work. When he kissed her, words like careful and caution vanished from her vocabulary.
He gave her a rueful smile. “No doubt about it. Time to go out and check on that mean mare.”
The snow stopped around seven. They were sitting at the table eating applesauce and more of the never-ending sandwiches, when Katie looked across at the light in the Lockwood’s window and realized there was no curtain of white obscuring it.
Justin noticed, too. “Tomorrow we can probably start digging out.”
“Hey, the phone may even be working soon.” She’d checked it just a half an hour before. “And if the snow doesn’t start in heavy again, the plow should get to us by tomorrow sometime.”
“And we’ll be free.”
They stared at each other across the expanse of the tabletop. “Free…” She repeated the word softly. And somehow, she couldn’t keep from sounding forlorn.
She looked out the window again, at that golden light from the house across the museum yard.
No question that stale sandwiches, wearing other people’s ill-fitting cast-off clothes, and sponge baths at the sink in the ladies’ room got old very fast. She’d be grateful for a shower, something different to eat, her own clothes to wear. And more than any of those minor inconveniences, it would be a huge relief to know that everyone she cared about had come through the unexpected blizzard safe and sound.
But still. They had made themselves a private little world here, in the center of the storm. She would miss it—miss just the two of them, all alone. Talking through the night. Kissing. Laughing together. And kissing some more…
She would miss it a lot.
Would she see Justin again, once they were out of here?
She frowned. Well, of course she would. Really, she didn’t need to even ask herself the question.
They had a…connection, something special going on between them. She felt it in her bones. This was different from anything she’d known before. Even after what had happened with Ted Anders and Jackson Tully, she had no doubts about Justin.
None at all.
He spoke then. “For someone who’s probably going to be out of this place tomorrow, you’re looking pretty glum.”
She turned from the golden light across the way to meet his waiting eyes. “I want to see you again, when this is over. Do you want to see me?” She was proud, of the steadiness of her voice, that she’d put her own intention right out there, hadn’t waited for him to make the first move, handing him all the power and then hoping he’d give her a call.
Oh, yes. Katie Fenton, a cliché no more.
“I do want to see you again. I want that very much.”
Her heart leaped—and then something in his eyes spoke to her. Something…not right. “But?”
He blinked. “No buts. I want to see you when we get out of here.”
And I will. She thought the words he didn’t say.
The silence stretched out. Painful. Empty. She wanted to demand, And will you? But somehow, that seemed one step too far. He should say it of his own accord, or not at all.
She wanted him. She cared for him. She had no doubt that he wanted and cared for her.
Would it go any further than that?
That secret something behind his eyes was telling her no. “Justin?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there…something else you want to say to me?”
Justin looked at the incredible woman across from him and never wanted to look away.
His chest felt tight—as if something strong and relentless was squeezing it. His gut twisted.
The urge was there, in his clenched gut and his tight chest—an urge almost too powerful to deny.
To tell her everything. To throw over his carefully constructed plans.
To lay it all out for her: what Caleb really was to him and how he meant to make the older man pay for the cruel things he’d done.
To hit her with the whole truth: how from the first night fate threw them together, he’d felt the heat between them and decided to make use of it, to toss her into the mix. How he’d purposely set out to take advantage of the situation, and of her.
It was crazy, even to think he might open his mouth and…
No.
He wasn’t going to blow it. He’d waited too long to get to the man who’d ruined his mother’s hope and happiness.
