the water.
About the swirl of heat that had swept through her, making the chill wind nothing more than a whisper. And she’d wondered what it would feel like to have him touch her, smooth his hands over her skin, dip his fingers into her—
“The eggs are burning.”
“What?” She blinked, stared at the pan and instinctively used her free hand to push it off the flame.
Instantly pain bristled on her palm and she dropped the spatula to cradle her left hand against her chest. Tears clouded her eyes and a whimper squeaked past her lips.
“Damn it!” Sam set his coffee cup on the stove, grabbed her left hand, looked at it, then dragged her with him across the kitchen to the sink. He turned on the cold water and held her hand beneath the icy stream. Instantly the pain subsided and she sighed.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” she said, wiggling her fingers in an effort to pull her hand free of his tight grasp. It didn’t work. “I just—”
“Doesn’t look bad,” he said, smoothing his fingers over the palm of her hand with a tenderness that touched something deep inside her. “Hold still and let me be sure.”
The doctor in him took over, she noticed, as the cranky man became suddenly all business.
Then something shifted. Something changed.
His touch became less professional and more… personal. He turned her hand beneath the flow of water, inspecting every inch of her skin. And Maggie closed her eyes against the twin sensations rushing through her. The cold of the water numbed her even as the heat of Sam’s touch engulfed her. Her breath staggered a little as she felt his fingertips glide across her wet skin with a gentleness that she’d never known before.
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Their gazes locked and a thread of something warm and unspoken drew tight between them. Her breath staggered out of her lungs and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. After what felt like a small eternity, she couldn’t bear the tension-filled silence anymore. Mouth dry, voice croaking, she asked, “Is my hand okay?”
“You were lucky.” His voice was a low growl of sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. “There’s no blistering.”
“Good,” she managed to say while she locked her knees so they wouldn’t wobble and give out on her. God. Was the air really hot? Or was it just her own blood boiling? Oh, yeah, going to keep her distance this summer. Nice start to that plan.
His fingers continued to stroke and soothe her skin and she felt that touch all the way to the center of her. Strange. She’d never experienced anything like this before. A simple touch shouldn’t turn her insides to mush.
At last, he turned off the water and reached for a dish towel. Holding her hand in his, he used the soft linen to blot her skin dry. Then he lifted his gaze to hers again, and Maggie felt a jolt of something amazing pass between them just before he dropped her hand as if it was a rattler and took a step back.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, pushing one hand through his hair. “Just be more careful, okay?”
“I usually am.”
“Right.” He paused, took a breath and said, “Look, about last night—”
Her head snapped up and her gaze locked with his. “What?”
He studied her for a long minute before lowering his gaze. “Nothing. Never mind. Probably better all around if we just forgot last night ever happened.”
Sure. Pretend he hadn’t seen her naked. No problem. “Probably would.”
“Yeah.” He tossed the towel to the counter, then shoved both hands into the back pockets of his jeans, as if unwilling to risk touching her again. “I’m thinking you’re right about something, too. Better if we just stayed out of each other’s way this summer.”
“Okay.” Maggie was still struggling to even out her breath and convince her heart to slide down back into her chest where it belonged. Apparently, though, Sam Lonergan had much quicker recuperative powers. Because he could pretend all he wanted—she knew he’d felt something as powerful as she had.
“Fine. Then we’re agreed.” He glanced around the room as if he didn’t remember where he was. Then, shaking his head, he crossed the room and grabbed up his coffee cup. Stalking to the counter, he refilled it, then passed her on his way out of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. “I’m going to grab a quick shower. Then I’m headed into Coleville. Want to talk to Jeremiah’s doctor.”
She nodded, but he was already leaving the room with steps so quick his feet might have been on fire. Apparently she wasn’t the only one a little flustered by what had just happened.
She’d thought that Sam Lonergan could be a threat to the home she loved so much.
But she hadn’t expected him to be an entirely different kind of threat to her sanity.
Four
He took an ice-cold shower.
It didn’t help.
Damn it, things were going to be hard enough this summer without worrying about the sexy little housekeeper with whiskey-colored eyes and fragile hands.
Slathering shaving cream on his face, Sam stared into the mirror and dragged his razor across his cheeks, losing himself in the feel of cold steel against his skin. And still he could feel Maggie’s hand cupped in his. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to find a woman who made him feel a little too much and want a little too much more.
Finished shaving, he bent his head, scooped water over his face, then stood up and glared at his reflection. Water cascaded down his neck and ran along his chest, but he hardly noticed. His hands gripped the cold edges of the sink and he leaned his head forward until his forehead rested against the mirror.
Coming home was turning out to be even harder than he’d thought it would be.
Jeremiah waited until he heard the Jeep leave the ranch yard, its engine becoming little more than a distant purr. Just twenty minutes later Maggie’s old heap of a car jumped into life, and within minutes it, too, was gone off down the road. Then, quietly, Jeremiah threw back the quilt covering him and jumped to his feet.
As he stretched the kinks out of his back and legs, he gave a low, deep-throated sigh of pure pleasure to be up and out of that bed. Saturday mornings on the ranch, he could count on one thing absolutely: Maggie would be gone for at least two hours. She’d have lunch with her friend Linda, who worked in the Curl Up and Dye hair salon, then do the grocery shopping for the week.
“Thank God Sam picked today to go visit Bert,” Jeremiah muttered as he did a few deep knee bends, then touched his fingertips to his toes. “One more hour in that bed and I just might become an invalid.”
An active man, Jeremiah hated nothing more than sitting still. And lying down just wasn’t in his game plan. A man of almost seventy knew only too well that soon enough he’d have an eternity to lie down. No point in hurrying things up any.
Grinning
