thinking clearly, and there wasn’t another room available and I didn’t have anywhere to go—”
“It’s okay.” He settled onto the sofa, at the end nearest her. “It’s all right with me if you stay here.” It was more than all right, really. Suddenly his lonely weekend didn’t look so lonely.
She glanced toward the window. Snow was coming down in great drifts. “I guess none of us will be going anywhere for a while.” She sank back into the chair and stared at the bubbles in the champagne. “We’re trapped here.”
“Hey, don’t make it sound so terrible.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I know I’m not Bob, but I’m not such a bad fellow.” If you asked him, Bob was a first-class creep to skip out on a woman like this one. The thought made his jaw tighten in anger. How often did you come across such sweetness and sensuality wrapped up in one neat little package? “I don’t mind sharing the condo with you until the storm passes.” Which, with any luck, wouldn’t be for a couple of days.
She looked around the room, perhaps taking in how small it was. Intimate. “I feel like I’m intruding. I mean, you obviously came up here to be alone.” She flushed. “Or maybe you’re expecting someone.”
He shook his head. “I’m not expecting anyone.” He shrugged. “It was sort of a last-minute thing. I had some vacation coming and decided to take the weekend off. You know—read, think about things.” Even before he’d gotten the invitation from Dave, he’d been restless. Like something was missing from his life. Or somebody…
She ran her finger around the rim of her glass and looked glum. “I guess I’ve got a few things to think about now, too.”
“You mean Bob.”
She nodded. “I can’t believe I was so blind. So trusting. Good old Cassie.” She gripped the arms of the chair, white-knuckled, jaw clenched. “He must have been laughing behind my back the whole time.”
She glanced at Guy. “Jill calls him ‘Boring Bob’ sometimes. Never one to get excited about anything. Always so predictable. Boy, did we have him wrong.”
“We all make mistakes.” It was one of those platitudes that don’t really mean anything, but it was all he could think of at the moment. He wanted to take away her hurt, to see her smile again. She had such a sweet smile. There was a better coffee shop closer to his office, but Cassie’s smile always drew him back to Java Jive.
“I wanted to surprise him this weekend,” she said, green eyes snapping with rage. “I thought I’d shake him up, put a little life back in our relationship. Hah!”
Guy braced himself. Any minute now, the waterworks would start. He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, just in case.
Cassie Carmichael didn’t burst into tears. Instead, she shot up out of the chair and began to pace. “When I think of all I did for that man! Oh, he owes me. Big time.”
Guy followed her with his eyes as she stalked back and forth in front of the fireplace. Cheeks flushed, hair tumbling about her shoulders, she was a woman overcome by passion, though not of the romantic kind. You didn’t see that kind of emotion every day. Most people sleepwalked through life, not allowing themselves to feel much of anything, but not Cassie. Here was a woman who wasn’t asleep.
He was getting turned on watching her, had in fact been turned on since the moment she’d showed up at his door. He could still recall the feel of those silky panties between his fingers. The thought unnerved him. She had been his kid sister’s friend. And yet, Cassie was practically a stranger to him. He had no business lusting after her. He shifted in his seat, hoping she wouldn’t notice how aroused he was becoming.
“Listen to me, going on like this.” She stopped in front of him. “Not only do I intrude on your weekend, I start dumping all my personal problems on you.”
“No, that’s all right.” He stood and reached for the champagne bottle. “Let me refill your glass. If you’re hungry, I’ve got some cheese and stuff.”
“Yeah, I guess I am a little hungry at that. There are some strawberries in my pack.”
She started toward the pack, but he intercepted her. “I’ll get them. After all, you’re my guest.”
She smiled, apparently seeing the humor in the remark. It was a strange situation, but now that she was here, he was glad of it. Humming to himself, he retrieved the cheese, summer sausage and crackers from the grocery bags, then went to get the strawberries from her pack.
He didn’t find them right away. First, he took out two scented candles, a bottle of cinnamon-flavored massage oil and the pair of almost-sheer white panties. The silk slid through his fingers, sending his temperature soaring.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if she’d noticed, but she was curled up in the chair again, staring into the fire.
All right, she’d just had her heart broken. It wouldn’t be exactly fair for him to hit on her now, would it? No matter how much he was tempted. Reluctantly, he returned the panties to the pack and dug out the strawberries. Better to keep things pleasant and platonic, get to know each other before they took things any further.
Still, it would take everything he had to keep his hands to himself this weekend. He’d have to find something safe for them to do. Something that would keep his mind off of sex.
CASSIE LOOKED OVER her shoulder to where Guy stood in the condo’s kitchen alcove. He hummed to himself as he sliced cheese, moving with fluid grace. Dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt, he could have been a model in a Ralph Lauren ad—tousled hair, broad shoulders, flat stomach and the most perfect male rear end in existence.
She pinched herself. Yep, she was awake, all right, though Guy had starred in more than one erotic dream in the years since she’d first met him.
She turned back toward the fire, hoping he wouldn’t see her infatuation written on her face. It was one thing to fantasize about a man from a distance, quite another to be face-to-face with that man at a small, secluded resort.
Her heart thudded and she had to set aside her empty glass for fear of dropping it from her suddenly shaking hands. It didn’t matter how small this condo was or how alone they were. Men like Guy weren’t interested in quiet women like her. Her fantasies would have to stay fantasies, and that was all there was to it.
“Looks like you need a refill.” He returned with the champagne bottle and a plate of cheese, fruit and crackers. He refilled her glass and she thought he’d sit back down on the sofa. Instead, he settled on the floor at her feet. “Is the fire warm enough for you?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound emerged. Warm was not the word for what she was feeling. The closer he got, the higher her temperature rose.
Unfortunately, the feeling obviously wasn’t mutual. “It’s still a little chilly in here,” he said. “I’ll put some more wood on the fire.”
He stood and fetched a log from a washtub on the hearth for the fire, then sat back at her feet and offered the plate of food. She bit into a strawberry and sipped more champagne. The bubbly was making her light-headed. Or was that Guy?
She pulled her gaze away from him, toward the table beside her and a picture resting there. Six young men, dressed for the slopes, posed with a variety of snowboards
