Rob waited a heartbeat. Two. Three. Sure she wasn’t going to answer. When she did, it was in a voice so low he had to strain to hear her.
“I haven’t always been this way.”
She looked so fragile, so broken, sitting there, her head bowed, her shoulders sagged in defeat. He wanted to tell her to forget it, that it wasn’t necessary for her to tell him about her past, that it was wrong of him to ask her. More, he wanted to gather her into his arms and just hold her, until all the ugly memories were purged from her mind.
But before he could do either, she dragged her hands from his.
“I used to enjoy sex,” she said quietly. She opened and closed her hands on her thighs, staring at them, as if transfixed. “Once. A long time ago. Then, it was beautiful, exciting, a sensual blending of bodies and minds. It was never painful. Never humiliating. Never forced or ugly. But that was before…before he—” She pressed her lips together and shook her head, her eyes filling again. “I—I’m sorry. I…I can’t talk about this.”
He covered her hands with his. “Don’t, then. Forget the past. Just tell me about now. What just happened.”
Rebecca swallowed, gulping back the tears, knowing he deserved at least that much from her, after she’d all but come apart in front of him. Yet she wondered if he realized how closely the two were intertwined. “I…I panicked. Like the other time. When you kissed me. Before, you had me pushed up against the wall. This time I was pinned beneath you. Both times I thought you were…” She curled her hands into fists beneath his. “I thought you were someone else. I thought you were going to hurt me.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed a knuckle across the dampness, catching it before it could fall. “I’d never hurt you, Rebecca. I’ve told you that.”
She bobbed her head. “I know,” she replied in a voice thick with tears. “I do. But my mind plays these tricks on me. The situation. A feeling.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it. But something happens that clicks a memory, and I think it’s him, that he’s got me. That he’s going to hurt me again.”
“Who, Rebecca?” he asked gently. “Who’s going to hurt you?”
She lifted her face, her lips trembling, her eyes flooded with tears. “Earl. My husband.”
A band tightened around Rob’s chest at the anguish in her eyes, the fear that lay a thin layer beneath it. Unable to bear to see her suffer any longer, he gathered her into his arms. “He can’t hurt you anymore, Rebecca. He’s gone. Earl’s dead.”
“I know,” she said, hiccuping a sob. “But he still has the power to control me.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
She jerked away from him so fast, she was out of his arms before he could react.
“He does!” she cried. “Don’t you see? He’s here, in my head, all the time, controlling me. I’ll never be normal again. Nothing will. I can’t even have sex without freaking out!”
“Yes, you can.”
She dug her fists into her thighs. “I can’t! Don’t you understand? Didn’t you see what just happened?”
“Yes, and I understand perfectly. But I know how we can overcome your fears.”
She stared at him a full minute, her chest heaving, her hands still clenched into fists. Then, slowly, she unfurled her fingers. “How?” she whispered.
Rob rose to his knees and pulled her to her knees to face him. With his gaze on hers, he slid his arms around her waist. “Look at me. If you’re able to do nothing else, keep your eyes on me.”
Though she did as he requested, he felt the rigidness of her body, saw the doubt begin to slide back to shadow her eyes. Without moving his gaze from hers, he opened his palms on her back and stroked slowly up and down. “You can do this, Rebecca. You can. I’ll help you. Hold on to me, if you want.”
She inhaled deeply, and lifted her hands to his shoulders.
Her touch was light, tentative. Her eyes swirled with conflicting emotions. Hope. Fear. Doubt.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Rebecca,” he said softly.
She dropped her gaze, her cheeks flaming. “I’m not.”
He drew a hand from around her to force her chin back up. “Who told you that? Earl?” Before she could answer, he said, “You are beautiful. Don’t ever allow anyone to try to convince you differently.” He slid his arm around her waist again. “Uh-uh,” he warned when she started to lower her gaze. “Your eyes are on me. Remember?”
Though reluctant, she complied.
Touched by her trust in him, her determination to see this through to the end, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Do you know how irresistible I find you?” he asked, looking down at her. “How unbelievably sexy? I only have to look at you to become aroused.”
She pushed at his shoulders impatiently. “Oh, please. There’s no need for you to lie.”
He tightened his hold on her, preventing her from twisting away, then took one of her hands and pushed it down his abdomen. Her eyes shot wide when she encountered his arousal. “See?” he told her. “I wasn’t lying. I was telling you the truth.”
He watched her throat convulse, then felt the tentative curl of her fingers around his sex. It was all he could do to remain upright. Her touch was sweetness. Innocence. Torture of the most pleasurable kind.
“Yeah,” he murmured huskily as her fingers trembled down his length. He lowered his face to hers. “Just like that.”
He kissed her deeply, passionately, then forced himself to draw back, not wanting to push her too fast. She needed slow. Patience. He’d give her both. “Doing okay so far?”
Her breathing ragged, she wet her lips and nodded.
“Good.” He slid his hands down her back as he leaned to brush her mouth with his again. “You’ve got a nice butt,” he murmured against her lips. He cupped her cheeks and squeezed. “Just the right size. And your breasts—” He eased back and dipped his head down, opening his mouth over a peak. He flicked his tongue over a nipple, drew her deeply in, suckled a moment. He hummed his approval low in his throat as he pulled away. “Perfect.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “You. In every way.”
Tears flooded Rebecca’s eyes. But this time not from shame or fear or anger. These tears were spawned by Rob’s kindness, his tenderness. His understanding.
It was then that she began to believe that he really could help her, that he was capable of wiping from her mind all the ugly memories Earl had left her with. She began to believe, really believe, that he could heal her. That she could have sex with a man, this man, without breaking down.
Praying that was true, she opened her hands on his chest, over his heart. “I’m not perfect,” she said, her voice breaking. “No one is. But thank you.”
She watched the blue in his eyes soften, a tender smile curve his lips. He lifted her hand from his chest and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “Maybe not, but you’re damn close.” He pressed another kiss against her palm, then lifted her hands to wind them around his neck. “Remember,” he said. “Keep your eyes open and on mine.” With that last reminder, he settled his hands in the curve of her waist.
Holding her steady with nothing but the power of his gaze, he took his hands on a journey downward, smoothing them over her hips, down her thighs, his touch like silk sliding sensually over her skin. Light. Hypnotizing in its slow, studied movements down, then up again, curving his hands until only the tips of his fingers brushed the inside of her thighs. By the time he reached the juncture of her thighs, his palms drawn together almost prayerfully at her mound, her body trembled with need, all but burned with it. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, her breath shorter.
He slipped a hand between her legs. “No, Rebecca,” he whispered when her eyelids shuttered closed. “Look at me.”
She managed to force her lids up, her gaze to his. But with each stroke of his finger along her feminine folds, her ability to keep them open grew weaker and weaker, as did her knees. And when he separated the folds and pressed the tip of his finger to her damp center, she dropped her head to his shoulder with a moan.
“Look at me, Rebecca,” he ordered. “Look at me.”
Though she wanted only to feel, to float on the sensations that he had sent pulsating through her body like waves against a distant shore, she dragged her head up, her eyes open.
Blue struck blue when their gazes met again. Heat pulsed against heat. With her arms wrapped tightly around his neck she clung to him, trembling, as he circled her center, gathering the moistness, spiking the heat…then suddenly he pushed inside. She gasped, arching, as he held her there, as if balanced on a high pinnacle, her body convulsing wildly.
Rob watched the surprise widen her eyes, the passion darken them, the flush of it stain her cheeks. Heard the pleasure, the satisfaction in the moan that slipped past her lips.
“Rob,” he told her, wanting to cement his name in her mind, and hopefully tie it to the emotions she was experiencing. “Rob,” he said again as he eased her down to the sheets and stretched out over her.
With his gaze fixed on hers, he held himself above her as he aligned his sex with hers. “Rob,” he said yet again, then pushed inside her. She bucked wildly against him, her feminine walls clamping tightly around his sex. His arms trembled as he fought for control. “Rob,” he repeated through clenched teeth as he drove his hips against hers again and again and again.
The tension built inside him, became a roar in his ears, a whip that lashed through his body, and he knew it was useless to try to hold back any longer. With a low growl he thrust deeply one last time and emptied his seed inside her. He jerked once reflexively. Again. A third time. Then, with a moan, he collapsed against her and buried his face in the curve of her neck, his energy spent.
“Rob,” he groaned at her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back, bringing her with him. With a hand cupped at the back of her neck, he drew her head to rest against his. “Rob,” he murmured, and turned his lips against her cheek.
He closed his eyes, surrounded by the scent of their lovemaking, comforted by the warmth of her body nestled against his, and whispered one last time.
“Rob.”
Hours and hours and hours, he’d promised her.
Rebecca discovered Rob was a man of his word.
Snugged against his back, she lifted her head to peer at the bedroom window. An inky darkness shadowed the landscape beyond and a cycle of moon hung from a midnight-blue velvet sky. She glanced at the bedside clock and sighed. Almost eleven. She should go home. She leaned to peek over Rob’s shoulder. In sleep, his face was relaxed, almost boyish. No scowling frowns to detract from his handsomeness now.
Though she wanted to lie back down and sleep curled beside him, she knew she had to go home. But leaving was difficult. Especially when he looked so adorably rumpled, with his hair all mussed and his jaw shadowed by dark stubble. Unable to resist, she bent to press her lips against his cheek, then shifted away from him to push from the bed.
A hand closed around her wrist and yanked her back. Shrieking, she fell across his broad back, her face only inches from his.
“Don’t go,” he murmured sleepily. “Stay.”
Her heart melted at the huskiness in his voice. Smiling softly, she swept a hand across his forehead and brushed the rumpled locks of hair from his face. “I have to. Sadie. She’s been in the house by herself all day.”
“You put out food and water, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
He reached behind him, caught her hip and dragged her from his back to lie opposite him. Snuggling close, he nuzzled his face between her breasts. “Stay.”
She felt herself weakening, but stiffened her resolve. “I can’t, really. She’ll be lonely.”
He heaved a weary sigh, then rolled to his back and from the bed.
She sat up, staring, as he pushed one leg, then the other into his jeans. “Where are you going?”
He glanced her way as he pulled up his zipper. “To get Sadie.”
In the end, they’d both gone to Rebecca’s house to collect Sadie, as well as a change of clothes for Rebecca.
Though she might have expected to feel awkward spending the night with a man for the first time, she was pleased to discover that she didn’t. Rob was an easy man to be around, comfortable in his body…and fascinated with hers.
“What?” she asked, catching him watching her again while she was preparing their breakfast.
“Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”
She bit back a smile and gestured with the spatula at the window. “The best view is out there.”
He pushed from the bar and moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nuzzling his nose at her ear, he ran his hands over her abdomen. “Not to me.” He cupped them over her mound and squeezed. “The best view is right here.”
Rebecca released a shuddery breath. “If you’re hungry, you better cut that out. Otherwise, I’m liable to burn your pancakes.”
His lips curved in a smile against her neck. “You can always make some more.”
“Rob—”
He turned her in his arms and closed his mouth over hers, silencing her. She melted against him on a sigh, the pancakes forgotten.
The phone rang shrilly. Once. Twice. On the third ring Rob snatched it from the base on the wall beside him. Dragging his lips from Rebecca’s, he pulled the phone to his ear. “Rob Cole,” he said into the receiver.
When Rebecca tried to ease from his embrace, he tightened his arm around her, holding her firmly against his groin. She watched his forehead pleat in a frown as he listened.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Is he there?”
Wondering who he was talking to and what the person had said that would put that dark scowl on his face, she placed her hands on his chest, over his heart, and soothed him.
He glanced down at her. “Yeah,” he said into the receiver. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
He returned the phone to its base, then settled his arm around her waist again.
“Bad news?” she asked hesitantly.
He flattened his lips and shook his head. “No. Not really. That was Seb’s secretary. She was calling to tell me that they’d located Eric’s computer.”
“And Seb?” she asked.
He pulled his arms from around her and turned away. “She hasn’t seen him. Nobody has.”
Rob settled himself at the desk Sebastian’s secretary had provided, and rubbed his hands together before positioning his fingers over the keyboard. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s you and me have a little talk.”
He punched in codes and a screen appeared. One by one, he scrolled through the files listed, looking for anything suspicious, anything that appeared out of the ordinary. After an hour or more of scrolling and checking records, he pushed back the chair and tilted his head back, scrubbing wearily at his face.
Nothing, he thought in frustration. Zero. Nada. A bunch of charts and graphs. Nothing but a bunch of financial mumbo jumbo, exactly what he’d expect to find on a bean counter’s computer.
Certain that there had to be more, praying he’d find something in the computer’s memory that would lead him to Eric’s murderer, Rob straightened and quickly typed in another series of commands, this time calling up Eric’s e-mail software.
Starting with the most recent e-mails, those dated just prior to Eric’s death, Rob began to scan through them. Within minutes, he was yawning.
“No wonder Sadie was the only female interested in the guy,” he muttered disagreeably as he closed one post and opened another. The guy was a geek. A bore. Reading his e-mails would put Alan Greenspan to sleep. It was like trying to work your way through a thousand-page commentary on world economics, written by some professor with a zillion credentials after his name. No one-liners. No crude comments about some hot chick in receiving. No dirty jokes. No nothing. Just business, business and more boring business.
The next post that popped up had him tense and startled. He scanned quickly, then shifted his gaze back to the beginning and read through it a second time.
“Damn you, Eric! You’re going to pay for this, you son of a bitch. That money deal was our secret. Ours! A deal that you stood to profit from the same as me. Well, you’ve blown it now, buddy. You’d better get your affairs in order, because your days are numbered. Get my meaning?”?
A cold sweat popped out on Rob’s forehead. He clicked to open the file fully, in order to reveal the header. The date on the e-mail was three days prior to Eric’s death. And the author?
Sebastian Wescott.
Rob shot up from the chair, sending it spinning crazily across the room. No, he cried silently, refusing to believe the facts before him. Not Seb. Seb wouldn’t steal money from his own company. He wouldn’t murder an innocent man. There had to be an explanation for this. Someone had set Sebastian up. That was it. It had to be. He’d talk to Seb, tell him what he’d found. Together they could—
“Damn you, Seb!” he swore, remembering that he didn’t know where Seb was. And without Seb there to explain all this, to help track down the real murderer, Rob’s hands were tied. He had no other options.
He had to take his findings to the police.
But first he had to see Rebecca, he told himself. Hold her. Surround himself with her sweetness, her innocence, to draw from her the strength he needed to turn over to the police the evidence that would incriminate his best friend.
When he arrived at her shop, he was grateful to find Rebecca alone. She glanced up at the sound of the chime, a smile blooming on her face when she saw him. But as she started around the counter to greet him, her smile slowly faded.
“Rob? What’s wrong?”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her after him into the storeroom. He kicked the door closed behind them and spun her around and into his arms. His mouth slammed against hers with an urgency, a desperation that stole her breath and gripped her heart, while his arms threatened to squeeze her in two.
A day before, Rebecca would have panicked at the anger she tasted in him. Would have cringed in fear at the violence she sensed in the corded arms that bound her. But that was before. And this was Rob. Not Earl. A distinction between present and past Rob had sealed so securely in her mind and heart the night before.
So instead of shrinking away from him like a coward, she leaned into him, wound her arms around his neck and opened for him, offering freely whatever he wanted to take from her.
And when she did, his mouth softened on hers, his hands opened to slide down her back. He moaned against her lips, the sound that of a wounded animal, and Rebecca absorbed the sound, wanting to take away whatever pained him.
When at last he withdrew, he did so on a ragged sigh. He rested his forehead against hers. “I needed that. You.”
Touched more than he would ever know by his words, she cupped a hand behind his head and tipped her face up to kiss his chin. “Are you okay?”
He unwound her hands from his neck and held them as he took a step back. He gave them a squeeze. “I am now.”
At that moment, as she looked into the depths of his blue eyes and saw the agony he suffered, glimpsed the pureness and tenderness of his tortured soul, Rebecca knew her heart was lost to him. “Tell me what’s happened.”
He did, explaining in detail the e-mail he’d found on Eric’s computer, the implications of it, the ramifications it would have on Seb when Rob turned it over to the police.
“Do you think he’s guilty?” Rebecca asked hesitantly.
He shook his head. “No way. But that e-mail says otherwise, and it’s probably enough to send Seb to prison.”
“Then don’t do it.”
Rob lifted a brow. “Don’t give the police the e-mail?” At her nod, he turned away, cuffing a hand at the base of his neck and squeezing. “I have to,” he muttered. “I don’t have a choice.”
“I’m not saying you should never turn it over to the police. I’m just suggesting that you wait a day or two.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “And hope in the meantime that Seb shows up?”
“Yes.”
“It’s against the law to withhold evidence.”
“I know.”
“I could go to jail, probably lose my investigator’s license.”
Rebecca inhaled deeply, knowing how much Rob would be sacrificing if he were wrong about his friend. He stood to lose his career, his reputation. Possibly years of his life locked in a cell. And she would lose, too. She’d lose Rob. And she’d only just begun to believe that there might possibly be a future for them together.
She released the breath slowly, carefully, then crossed to him and took his hands in hers. “Or you might save a friend’s life.”
Rob stared at her, stunned by her belief in him, her faith that he was right about Seb.
“You don’t know anything about that e-mail,” he warned her. “I never mentioned it to you. Understand?”
She looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“You don’t know anything about the e-mail,” he repeated, gripping her hands tightly in his. “I never told you about it. This conversation never occurred. You’re never to mention this to anyone. If you do, and the police get wind of it, then you will be as guilty of withholding evidence as I’m going to be.”
Rebecca told no one about the e-mail Rob had found. It wasn’t a hardship, though. There really wasn’t anyone she normally confided in. Other than Andrea, of course. But she didn’t tell Andrea. Instead she worried…especially about Rob’s safety.
He was dealing with a murderer, after all. If it wasn’t Sebastian, who Rob was convinced was innocent, then that meant there was someone else out there, lurking about. Someone who knew about the e-mail, who had planted it in Eric’s files himself, in order to frame Seb and hide his own guilt. There was a murderer walking around free, a murderer who would consider himself safe once Seb was accused of the crime and arrested.
A murderer Rob would bring to justice…or possibly die trying.
Haunted by that thought, Rebecca forced herself to stay busy, focusing her attention on the project for Rob’s home when there were no customers to occupy her mind. She made an appointment for the next afternoon to discuss the final design of the koi pond and patio fountain with the contractor she’d selected for the job.
And worried about Rob.
She placed the special order for the bent willow furniture for his porch from a craftsman she knew in Missouri.
And worried about Rob.
And when five o’clock came and Andrea breezed into her shop, inviting her to join her for dinner at Claire’s, the French restaurant on Main Street, she accepted, grateful for the distraction.
Once they were seated at the restaurant, Andrea braced her arms on the table and leaned forward expectantly. “All right. Let’s have it. Tell me everything.”
Horrified that Andrea somehow knew that Rob had sworn her to secrecy, Rebecca stammered, “Th-there’s nothing to tell.”
Andrea dismissed her evasion with a flap of her hand. “There is, and we’re not leaving this restaurant until you tell me every gory detail.”
While Rebecca stared, her stomach knotting in dread, Andrea sank back smugly in her chair. “I dropped by your house last night.”
“I—I’m sorry I missed you. I wasn’t home.”
“I know. I called several times, too.”
Rebecca couldn’t think how to reply. She hated to lie. Andrea was her friend. But the thought of telling her that she’d spent the night with Rob… Wasn’t that the same as kiss and tell? “Did you get my machine?” she asked, hedging.
“Yes. And you really should change your message. You must’ve had a cold or something when you recorded it, because you sound all nasal.”
“I did have a cold,” Rebecca said, leaping on the opportunity to distract Andrea. “Remember? It was about a month or so ago. You brought over chicken soup.”
“Yeah. I’m a real Girl Scout. Now, about last night. Where were you?”
Rebecca could feel the heat crawling up her neck. “I worked late.”
“I drove by the shop. Your van wasn’t there.”
“I wasn’t at the shop.”
“For heaven’s sake, Rebecca, why don’t you just tell me that you spent the night with Rob, instead of making me drag the story from you?”
The heat made it to Rebecca’s cheeks and burned.
Andrea leaned across the table, her eyes dancing with amusement. “That good, huh?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Andrea. Please.”
“Am I embarrassing you? Sorry. But I’m not giving up until you tell me every last detail.”
The waitress arrived to take their orders, and Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve.
It was a short one.
“So?” Andrea said as she handed their menus to the waitress.
Rebecca watched the waitress cross back to the kitchen, wishing she could go with her.
“Re-bec-ca,” Andrea said, enunciating each syllable.
Wincing, Rebecca unfolded her napkin and spread it across her lap, knowing it was useless to hedge any longer. Andrea would get the story out of her one way or another. “Yes, I spent the night at Rob’s, and, yes, we…” She felt the color rising again, and said in a rush, “And, yes, we made love.”
“Woo-hoo!” Andrea shouted as she sank back in her chair, applauding. “I knew you could do it.”
Mortified that some of the other guests in the restaurant might have overheard their conversation, Rebecca glanced around before snapping, “Andrea! Get a grip, would you? I’d just as soon the whole town isn’t privy to my sex life.”
Andrea pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. “Oh, but it’s such an exciting one. Especially after such a long dry spell.”
Rebecca arched a brow in warning.
Andrea pushed a hand at Rebecca. “Oh, all right,” she groused. “Not another word, I promise.” She picked up her glass, took a sip, set it down, opened her napkin, spread it over her lap, sat back in her chair and drummed her fingers on its arms, then puckered her lips as if whistling a silent tune.
And all the while looked everywhere but at Rebecca.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Rebecca complained. “If you’ll stop acting like a two-year-old, I’ll tell you.”
Andrea leaned forward, all ears.
And Rebecca told her. Stretching the story out over their salads, through their main course and ending it with their last bites of chocolate crepes.
Andrea laid down her fork, her eyes dreamy. “How romantic,” she said with a sigh.
“Hello, ladies.”
Rebecca glanced up to find Rob and Keith Owens, the owner of a computer software firm, approaching their table.
She gave Andrea a kick under the table. “Don’t you dare let on that you know anything,” she warned, then looked up to smile at Rob. “Hi. We just finished our dinner.”
Biting back a grin, Rob stooped and thumbed a smudge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth before touching his lips to hers. “So I see.”
Blushing, Rebecca stole a glance at Andrea as she dabbed at her mouth, fearing Andrea would make some comment about the kiss. She was relieved when she saw that Andrea was watching Keith Owens and had missed the whole thing.
Rob looked from Keith to Andrea, then pulled out Rebecca’s chair. “Since you’re all done,” he said, “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“But I have my van,” she said, balking, as he tugged her to her feet.
“We can get it later.” He slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder, then cupped her elbow. “Nice to see you, Andrea,” he said, then turned to Keith. “Later, buddy.”
“But I haven’t paid for my dinner,” she protested, digging in her heels.
Rob pulled a fifty from his pocket and dropped it on the tray of a passing waiter. “This should cover the tab for that table,” he said, indicating the table where Andrea still sat.
They were out of the restaurant and in his car before Rebecca had a chance to take a breath. “What was that all about?” she said indignantly as Rob slid behind the wheel.
He started the engine, then adjusted his rearview mirror. “You didn’t notice?”
“Notice what? The only thing I noticed was you hustling me out of the restaurant before I could even say goodbye to Andrea.”
“Hustling?” He chuckled. “I thought hustle meant to flirt with someone.”
“It means forcing someone to go somewhere they don’t want to go.”
“You don’t wan’t to be with me?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t try to distract me. I want to know what that was all about.”
“Oh. That.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her pursed lips and laughed when she drew back, narrowing an eye at him. “That was about Keith and Andrea. They were making moon eyes at each other. I figured I’d give him the room to make a move on her, if he wanted.”
She dropped her arms, her mouth sagging open. “Keith and Andrea?”
He pulled away from the curb and eased into traffic. “Yep. Keith and Andrea. They were an item a few years back. While in college. Looked to me as if they could be again.”
“Keith and Andrea?” she said again, unable to imagine the two together. “Why, she’s so easygoing and friendly, and he’s so…so…”
“Driven?” Rob suggested.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He lifted a shoulder. “They say opposites attract.”
Only just aware that he was heading for his ranch and not her house, Rebecca turned to look at him. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But—”
“You’re going with me.”
Rebecca kept up her arguments as she trailed Rob into his house.
“But I need to go home. I don’t have a change of clothes.”
He tossed his briefcase onto the kitchen counter. “You can wear some of mine.”
“Not to work in the morning! What would people think?”
He opened the refrigerator and stuck his head inside. “Don’t go to work.”
Frowning, Rebecca slapped her arms together at her waist. “I have to go to work. I’m the owner.”
He straightened, twisting the cap off a beer. “If you’re the owner, then declare tomorrow a holiday.”
He tipped the beer toward her, offering her a sip, and she shoved it away.
“I can’t just close the store.”
“Why not?”
“Because my customers depend on me, that’s why.”
He took a swig, then gestured at her with the bottle. “So what happens when you’re sick?”
“I go to work anyway.”
“What if you were real sick? Too sick to go to work? So sick you couldn’t get out of bed?”
She frowned, never having considered the possibility, as she was rarely ever ill. “Well, I guess I’d have to stay home.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “You know,” he said, walking with her toward his bedroom, “you’re not looking so good. Do you feel all right?”
“I feel fine.”
“I don’t know,” he said, eyeing her doubtfully. He stopped at the side of his bed and pressed a palm to her forehead. “You feel pretty warm to me. You might have a fever.”
She rolled her eyes. “I feel fine.”
He set his beer on the bedside table and stripped back the covers. “Maybe you should rest for a while. Just in case.”
“I’m not resting. I feel fine.”
“You’ll feel better once you get those clothes off and get under the covers.” He reached for the top button of her blouse. “Here. Let me help you.”
“Rob!” She swatted at his hands, but he’d already managed to undo two, exposing a sizable expanse of bare skin.
“What is that?” he asked, pleating his brow in concern. “A rash?”
Rebecca craned her neck, trying to see. “Where?”
“Here.” He touched a finger to the middle of her chest, then dragged it down and hooked it in her bra. He yanked her to him. “Gotcha.”
Rebecca huffed a breath. “You’re a rat.”
“And you’re cheese. Rats love cheese.” Grinning, he nibbled his way up her neck.
By the time he reached her ear, Rebecca would have been willing to be anything he wanted her to be. “Rob?”
He nuzzled her ear. “Hmm.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“And ruin all the fun?”
“Whose fun?”
Laughing, he fell back on the bed, taking her with him. “Mine.”