She was shocked to see him. It was written all over her face.
“I need to talk to you.” He shut the door behind him and moved into the room.
Her nightgown lay on the bed but she was still dressed. The lingerie was a silky swathe of cream lace and mauve satin. He swallowed, dragging his gaze away from it and focusing on her face. “I have to leave in the morning.”
“So soon?”
“Not for good,” he said swiftly. “But I have to fly to Denver for a meeting that I can’t handle over the phone. I’ll be gone less than twenty-four hours.”
Bryn nodded slowly. “I’ll keep an eye on Mac. Despite what you think, Trent, I love him.”
“Even though he sent you away?”
Her smile was wry. “I’m trying to let go of the past.”
He prowled the small space between the door and the bed. “Some of us don’t have that luxury.”
She stood there staring at him with bare feet and a face washed clean of makeup. Young, vulnerable, sweetly sincere. “You can trust me, Trent. I swear.”
His body hardened, and he groaned inwardly. How could he be sure of her when sex got in the way and clouded his judgment?
He shook his head to clear it. But when he looked at her again, she was more appealing to him than she had been mere moments before. His feet took him to her side. Her pull was inescapable.
She stiffened when he wrapped her in his arms. “I’m not playing this game with you, Trent.”
The quaver in her voice hurt something deep in his chest. “I can assure you,” he said roughly. “This is no game.”
He kissed her because it was the only thing he could do. Because if he didn’t, something inside him would shrivel and die. Because he was apparently weaker than he thought.
She was everything he had ever wanted and didn’t know he needed. Her lips tasted like toothpaste and something else far more exotic. His past and his present woven into one complicated package.
She fit him perfectly, her head tucked against his shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He slid a hand beneath her shirt and stroked the soft skin on her back.
When he tipped up her chin, their eyes met, his searching, hers filled with an emotion he shied away from. He wouldn’t let her twist him in knots. This violent attraction was about sex, nothing more.
Slowly, waiting for her to protest, to escape his embrace, he bent his head. Their lips met easily, in perfect sync.
He moved his mouth over hers gently, dragging out the pleasure, making his own heart race with the effort to hold back. What had happened on the mountain only whetted his appetite for more. This had nothing to do with Jesse. This was about scratching an itch. Or at the very least, proving to himself how far she was willing to go. He wanted her.
Clothes drifted away in a sensual ballet. Skin heated. Voices hoarsened with desire. His and hers.
This time Bryn was the one to call a halt. Pale but calm, she slipped from the bed and donned her robe.
“I want you, Trent. But not like this. Not with mistrust between us.”
Before he could summon a response, the shrill shriek of the smoke alarm sounded. For one crazed split second, he actually thought about dragging her down on the bed and saying to hell with it.
But the memory of his father jarred him to reality.
He rolled from the bed, groaning and cursing, and shoved his legs into his jeans. “This isn’t over,” he said.
Bryn knew her blood pressure must be through the roof. To go from desperate arousal to anxiety to fear so quickly made nausea swim in her stomach.
She found Trent and Mac in the kitchen. Trent was swearing a blue streak, and Mac presided over a ruined skillet than contained the charred remains of what must have been eggs.
Trent climbed on a chair to disable the smoke alarm. In the resultant silence, the three adults faced off in an uncomfortable triangle.
Bryn had the misfortune to giggle.
Trent glared and Mac chortled. Soon all three of them were laughing hysterically.
Trent was the first to regain control. “Good God, Dad. What in the hell were you doing? I thought you were sound asleep.”
Mac’s expression was sheepish. “I was hungry. And nobody will let me eat anything decent. So I was making an omelet…with whole eggs…and butter.” He puffed out his chest and tried to face them down with bluster.
“I would have helped you,” Bryn said mildly. She took the pan to the sink. “And since when do you know how to cook?”
“Since never. Hence the fire.” Trent dropped into a chair.
Mac raked at the tufts of white hair standing in disarray all over his head. “It wasn’t actually a fire,” Mac muttered, sulking. “I went to the bathroom for just a second, and when I came back…”
“That one’s a goner.” Bryn gave up and tossed the ruined cookware in the trash bin.
Trent rubbed his forehead, where almost certainly a killer headache was attacking him. He’d not had the best half hour. Bryn felt his pain.
He looked up at both of them. “God knows I don’t want to leave you two here alone, but please promise me you’ll behave until I get back.”
Bryn hugged Mac. “We’ll be fine,” she said, yawning suddenly. “Let’s all get some sleep.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that any sexual overtures on Trent’s part would not be repeated…at least not tonight.
There was an awkward moment in the hallway after Mac escaped to his quarters, but Bryn evaded Trent’s gaze and slipped into her bedroom with a muttered good-night, closing the door behind her with a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was for the best. She didn’t understand Trent’s motives. And until she did, self-preservation was the order of the day.
Perhaps understandably, she overslept. She awakened to the sound of a car engine fading into the distance. Already it was clear to her that things were not the same. The house seemed empty with Trent gone. He’d always been a force to reckon with, and the world was oddly flat in his absence.
Instead of moping and trying to analyze the situation, she forced herself to get up and face the day. When Mac appeared in the kitchen, he was chipper and energetic in contrast to her aching head and troubled thoughts.
He ate his egg-white omelet and plain toast without complaint. As Bryn picked at her oatmeal, he cocked his head. “I told Trent this morning to leave you alone so you would stay.”
She felt her cheeks heat. Surely…
Mac went on. “I let him know that if he didn’t have anything nice to say to you, he should keep his damn mouth shut.”
Her pulse slowed to its normal pace, and she could breathe again. Mac didn’t know about last night. How could he?
She twirled her spoon in the bowl. “I can handle Trent. Don’t you worry. But we need to talk, Mac.”
His bushy eyebrows went up. “Sounds ominous.”
“Do you think Jesse’s problems had anything to do with his mother’s desertion?”
Mac’s gaze shifted away from hers. His hands clenched. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“He was at a vulnerable age when she left. Sometimes kids blame themselves in situations like that.”
Mac’s complexion reddened alarmingly. “That was a long time ago. Jesse was a wild kid. Can’t blame that on a woman who’s been gone for almost twenty years.”
“But what if she tried to contact him?” Did Mac know about the letters? Was that why he was getting upset?
“Forget his mother,” Mac shouted. “I don’t want to talk about her…ever.”
The change was so dramatic, Bryn was blindsided. One minute Mac was the picture of health. And now…
He shoved back from the table and stood up so rapidly he knocked over his chair.
Bryn reached for him in alarm. “I’m sorry, Mac,” she said urgently. “We’ll drop it. I never should have said anything.”
He backed toward the hallway. “Jesse’s gone. Nothing’s going to bring him back. End of story.”
Mac’s knees gave out beneath him. His eyes met hers, imploring, scared.
“Calm down, Mac. Everything's okay. Really.” What had she done? But nothing was okay, not by a long shot.