Nash stared at Callie, as if unable to comprehend the task. Which, given what he had clearly expected her to ask him to do, was understandable. “You want me to carry storage boxes for you?” he repeated.
“For starters,” Callie admitted, pulling out three for him and keeping three for herself. Pretending he wasn’t her greatest male fantasy come to life, she shut the closet door with her hip. “All of them need to be taken into the family room. Then I’m hoping you’ll volunteer to help string lights on the tree.”
He fell into line behind her. “I think it’s pretty clear by now I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Trying not to think of the view she had just inadvertently given him, she turned and arched a brow. “Really, Echols. Still flirting?”
He grinned at her deadpan tone, then responded in kind. “Let’s just say you bring out the ‘manly man’ in me.”
Callie couldn’t help it—she laughed. If there was ever a guy with too much testosterone...
As if on cue, he set the boxes down and folded his arms across his brawny chest.
Callie swallowed hard. She told herself not to stare, to keep things light and carefree, but it was difficult with him showcasing all those magnificently sculpted muscles right in front of her.
“So is your tree decorated?” she asked, forcing her attention back to the conversation.
Broad shoulders flexed.
“Tell me you even have a tree.”
Another somewhat evasive smile. “The guys got me one already.”
She trod closer. Studying him, she inclined her head. “Why do I feel there’s a catch to that?”
His sexy grin widened while he contemplated that. He rubbed the flat of his hand across the bottom of his jaw. “Let’s just say it has a lot of personality.”
Uh-huh. “Where is it?” she asked.
“Currently?” His expression was one of total innocence. “Standing in a bucket of water on my back porch.”
He was kidding. Wait...he wasn’t kidding. “Echols!” she chided, upset. Even she, with her problem celebrating Christmas in her heart, knew that was no way to treat a holiday tree.
He ambled closer, too, not stopping until there were mere inches between them. “You know I like it when you call me by last name. It’s sort of a turn-on.”
Figuring the best way to avoid making out with him again was to get busy again, Callie lifted the lid off a box and pulled out a long strand of white Christmas lights. “Now that I know that,” she said dryly, “I’ll be sure and go back to Nash.”
Callie unraveled one end and handed it to him. He held on to it while she kept right on unraveling. “Back to your tree,” she continued. “Why is it on your back porch?”
Another mysterious shrug. “I haven’t had a chance to bring it in.”
“And if I buy that, I’m sure you have some mountain air you’d like to sell me...”
Now that they’d completely unwound the strand, he strolled over to plug it in. The test worked. The lights all came on.
“Nor do I actually have any decorations.” He wandered back to the tree and, accepting her wordless direction, began threading the lights through the top of the pine.
“What about your uncle?” Once again, Callie tried not to notice how his soft flannel shirt stretched across the taut muscles of his chest.
Nash paused, treading more carefully now. “If he had any, I can’t figure out where he would have put them, except the attic, which is a pretty jumbled mess. For all I know, he never even bothered putting up a tree himself.”
Like uncle, like nephew.
Sensing there was something behind that sudden faint glimmer of sadness and outward cool, Callie asked, even more casually, “You never visited your uncle at Christmastime?” From what she had come to understand, Nash and his folks were all the relatives Ralph Echols had.
Nash moved around behind the tree, focused on his task. “No. Just summers mostly. When we—I,” he corrected with a shake of his head, “was out of school and had the time to come and stay awhile.” So his parents hadn’t visited then, either, Callie deduced, following Nash around the tree.
Silence fell between them as he bent to thread the lights through the branches at midtree.
“What did you do in the summers?” he asked finally.
Callie reflected with a smile and a small shrug. “Survived the chaos, mostly.”
He lifted a speculative brow. “Care to elaborate...”
Trying not to think what his low, masculine voice did to rev up her insides, Callie took a trip down memory lane. “Well... My oldest sister, Poppy, was always painting and rearranging and redecorating stuff. My twin, Maggie—whom you now know—and I both babysat a lot. The triplets loved spending time at the pool. Lily was on the swim team. Rose worked in the snack bar. And Violet lifeguarded.”
Nash blinked. “Your parents had triplets—in addition to twins?” Briefly, he looked terrified by the notion of all those children and all that estrogen. Which was, Callie admitted wryly, the usual reaction to the knowledge she had five sisters. Five of whom were multiples!
Callie lifted a hand, reminding, “And don’t forget Poppy—the only single birth. She gets ticked off whenever she’s discounted.” Boy, did she get ticked off.
Which made sense. Callie knew it couldn’t have been fun to be the regular-birthed kid amidst all that chaos and excitement.
“I guess Poppy would at that.” He paused, recollecting. “They all had flower names...?”
“Including me, since my given name is Calla. I just like going by Callie.”
He remained flabbergasted. “Wow.”
Finished with one strand of lights, Callie went to get the other. “So does this mean you now want to meet all my sisters?”
Nash took the end and they began the same unraveling process. “Depends.” He slanted her a wicked look. “Are they all as gorgeous and funny and sexy as you?”
“Subtle,” she replied with a grin. “And not at all.”
They laughed together, then kept working. The second strand went faster. Once they were finally done, Callie plugged the end into a power strip, then handed Nash a tree-topper in the shape of a star. He plugged that into the existing strands. And suddenly it was all lit up. Ready for her son to help her decorate the next day.
Callie stepped back to admire their handiwork, acutely aware just how much she enjoyed spending time with Nash—no matter what they were doing. She propped her hands on her hips, conscious of the fact that her attempt at staying busy had failed. She still wanted to pull him close and make out with him. More than he would ever know.
She forced her attention away from her fantasies and back to the task at hand. “Hey, that really looks nice. Thanks for helping me out with it.”
He winked. “Anytime you need a manly man, you just call. I’ll come running, promise.”
Callie knew Nash would, which was precisely the problem. She had to get some boundaries erected between them, and fast. And the best way she knew to do that was to forget the personal, yet again, and concentrate strictly on the business.
She squared her shoulders and went to get her work calendar. “Before I forget, there are a few things I should mention.”
Clearly intrigued, he met her gaze. “Okay.”
“My in-laws are going to be here on Thursday evening.”
His brow furrowed. “Meaning what? You want me to make myself scarce?”
“Of course you can come over on a purely professional basis.”
“But,” he concluded, smile fading, “you’d just rather I not drop in.”
His sardonic tone stung. Callie pressed her lips together, tried again. “Doris and Rock tend to...overreact...to things.” Which was putting it mildly.
“Like when they said you were going to have the best corporate retreat in all of Texas, right out of the gate.”
“They mean well. But...it’s a lot of pressure to put on a person, if you know what I mean.”
He nodded, beginning to understand. “You think they’d disapprove of our friendship,” he said quietly.
Callie walked Nash into the hall and handed him his coat. “I’m not really sure how they would feel.” She paused to look into his eyes. “And given how much I have on my plate, I’d rather not find out just now.”
His expression gentled. “Understood.”
“Thanks.”
Nash pulled on his coat and headed toward the door. “How long are they staying?”
“Through Saturday afternoon. They’re going to help out with Brian while I host my second executive retreat on Friday, and then attend the organizational meeting for the Old-Fashioned Christmas Celebration at the Double Knot Ranch.”
“The Grimes are participating in that, too?” he asked in surprise.
“Doris and Rock won’t be working the actual event—they have a conflict on that date. But their company is going to be supplying some of the Texana memorabilia we’re going to be putting in the gift baskets. So they will be there Saturday, taking orders and nailing down the details of the giveaways. As a participant, you should be at the organizational meeting, too.” She paused, aware this should have been mentioned sooner. “Will that be a problem?”
He shook his head. “My last day to cut down trees is on Thursday. The trucking company will pick them all up on Friday.”
She walked with him onto the front porch. The night was clear and cold and filled with the smell of wood smoke and pine. “And then what?” she asked, suddenly reluctant to see her time with him end.
Oblivious to the romantic nature of her thoughts, he said, “I begin cataloging trees and making a list of the native shrubs I’ll excavate and the big pines I plan to cut down next spring. But that’s a ways off.”
Callie nodded, as if she hadn’t just been thinking of kissing him again. “So you’ll have plenty of time to help out with the preparations for the holiday celebration?” she said in her most businesslike tone.
Nash turned his collar up against the chill and headed briskly down the steps. “Anything you want,” he called over his shoulder. “You just let me know...”
Since he had been warned to steer clear of Doris and Rock Grimes, Nash was more than a little surprised to see Doris drive up to his ranch Friday afternoon. He handed out the last of the paychecks to the departing horse and cattle wranglers turned temporary lumberjacks, then walked over to greet Callie’s former mother-in-law. She was dressed as eclectically as ever and had an unusually serious expression on her face.
Aware Callie had an event going on next door, Nash asked, “Everything okay?”
Doris nodded. “Mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“Would you like to go inside?”
Doris looked around at the blue sky and unseasonably warm December afternoon, taking in the abrupt but not unusual change in the Texas weather. “It’s so beautiful here on the mountain. How about we sit on the porch?”
Nash escorted her to an Adirondack chair. “So what’s on your mind?”
Doris wrapped her lightweight shawl around her. “Callie, obviously. And Brian. Rock and I are worried about them.”
“In what sense?”
“The holidays have always been hard for Callie since my son died,” she explained. “And now with Brian becoming a handful at times as well, Rock and I would feel better if we knew her closest neighbor was keeping an eye on her.”
Nash heard the caution in her tone, and felt it, too. “What about Fiona and Frank Sanders—on her other side?” Wouldn’t they have been the logical first choice?
“Her sister, Maggie’s, in-laws? They’re already watching out for Callie and Brian, but they are also awfully busy at the Double Knot Wedding Ranch. And since you’re obviously spending a lot of time over at her place now, at least according to Brian...”
“He’s mentioned me?”
Another nod. “He seems to think you are the leading candidate for becoming his new daddy.” Doris surveyed him carefully, waiting for Nash’s reaction.
Doing his best to maintain a poker face, he lifted a hand. “I understand Brian’s confused about that storybook of his...and how it might apply to his own life.”
Another long, steady look. “He also likes you very much.”
“I like him, too,” Nash said sincerely. But that did not mean he and Callie were getting married. Especially since she had said more than once that she was dead set against ever tying the knot again. Past romantic experience told him if he were wise, he would take her word on that. Not push for more.
Doris handed him a business card. “Because you’re nearby and might be the first to notice if there is anything amiss, Rock and I would appreciate it if you would let us know if Callie and or Brian need anything. We travel constantly for our business, but all our contact information is on the card.”
Nash paused. “You’re that worried about her?”
Doris hesitated, then finally said, “Really, it’s just a precaution.”
Then why, Nash wondered, did he get the feeling that it was a helluva lot more than that?
“Got a minute to talk privately?” Nash asked Hart later the same day.
“Sure.” His friend led him into his office at Sanders Security Services. He shut the door behind them and gestured for Nash to have a seat. “What’s up?”
“I had a visit from Callie’s former mother-in-law this afternoon.” Briefly, Nash recounted the conversation. “Do you have any idea what’s behind her request?”
Abruptly, Hart looked as if he were about to walk over hot coals. “Callie can’t know I told you any of this.”
“Okay.”
He settled behind his desk. “She came here to have a fresh start.”
Nash sat down, too. “What happened?”
Hart picked up a pen and turned it end-over-end. “You know her husband died right before the holidays a few months after she was married, right?”
“Yeah...but I don’t really know much more than that.”
“Callie was a couple of months pregnant at the time,” Hart began. “At first, she seemed to take it remarkably well. According to Maggie, she cried and stuff, but she seemed to soldier on. Stayed in Dallas. Kept working her job. Had as normal a life as possible.”
This was beginning to sound ominous. “And then what happened?”
His friend grimaced. “She was at a big Christmas party for her job at some swanky downtown Dallas hotel. And she just lost it. Started crying. Couldn’t stop. They had to hospitalize her for exhaustion. Her parents had to come and take her back to Laramie. They got her into counseling. She joined a grief group. Had the baby.”
Nash paused to take all that in. Although he knew she was a passionate woman at heart, it was hard to imagine Callie as anything but strong and resolute. “And was okay after that?” Nash guessed, still feeling a little rattled by the revelation.
“Till the next Christmas. Then the same thing happened. Not as bad. I mean, she wasn’t out in public or anything, but again—according to Maggie—she had a pretty bad couple of days.”
“How old was Brian then?”
“Six months, I think. Anyway, Callie recovered pretty quickly from that relapse, and she went on with her life, but the word was out she was still struggling to cope with the loss of her husband and she got a lot of sympathy, which she interpreted as pity. You know the drill from your own experiences.”
Nash’s gut tightened. “Yeah. Grief sucks. And it’s even worse when everyone is watching you, ready to rush in at the smallest sign you might not be as ‘over it’ at that moment as everyone wants you to be.”
Hart sympathized, too.
Nash rested his arms on the sides of his chair. “How was she the second year after her husband’s death?”
“There was a day or two before the holidays when she had an anniversary reaction, but she talked to her counselor and seemed to come even more to terms with her loss.” He cleared his throat. “Especially when she made the decision to start fresh and create a whole new life for herself, first by taking a position with my parents in their business, and then by using Seth’s life insurance money to buy her own ranch and start her own company.”
“And the third year?”
“Nothing of note this year, thus far,” Hart said inconsequentially. “Unless you’ve noticed something...?”
Aside from a rash on her ring finger and an apparently uncharacteristic desire to have a fling with him? “I wouldn’t know what to look for.”
“You understand grief.”
Better than anyone. How it hit when you least expected it, and that the only thing that really helped was time. And a willingness to recover.
Aware his old friend was still sizing him up, Nash shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t have a good handle on Callie.” One minute he thought he understood her, and the next...
Nash thought about the fact he might be dealing with a ticking emotional time bomb. He exhaled roughly. “What do you think all this means? How do you think your sister-in-law is doing?”
Hart lifted a hand. “She’s either far enough along in her grief process to be able to accept the death of her husband and not suffer the way she did in past holiday seasons...”
“Or the worst is yet to come,” Nash surmised unhappily.
Hart lowered his brow. “For the record, I think she’s ready to move on. She’s certainly been happier the past few weeks than I recall seeing her in a very long time.”
Nash hoped her willingness to get involved with him—even on a strictly physical level thus far—proved that was indeed the case. That if her mind and body were moving on, soon her heart would be, too. Because if there was anything he knew for certain, it was that a woman as spirited and beautiful as Callie was not destined to end up alone.
Curious, he asked, “Is that why her parents didn’t want her to leave Laramie and move here?”
Hart nodded. “Jackson and Lacey McCabe worry Callie might be too isolated at the ranch. Seth’s parents feel the same way.”
“And yet,” Nash noted, “Doris and Rock Grimes apparently support Callie’s decision to strike out on her own, away from Laramie.”
“Probably because they worry if Callie were to stay in Laramie, she would always be viewed as Seth’s widow. And they really want her to marry again. They want their grandson to grow up with a mother and a father in his life.” Hart studied Nash. “Is this going to be hard for you?”
Of course his old friend would ask. And of course he would dodge the question in return. “Why would it be?” he challenged mildly.
Another long, telling look. “The similarities.”
“Callie is nothing like my parents,” Nash declared flatly.
Because if she were, he could not be involved with her. It was as simple—and heartbreakingly difficult—as that.
To Nash’s relief, though, Callie seemed more together than ever when he saw her the next day at the Double Knot Ranch party barn. “You’re in a chipper mood,” he observed as she stepped up to take his measurements for the costumes that everyone working the event would be wearing.
“With good reason.” Callie ran the measuring tape from his shoulder to wrist. “Seven hundred and fifty-two people of the one thousand we invited have RSVP’d that they will be attending the first annual Old-Fashioned Christmas Celebration. Plus...” Callie paused to scribble down a number, then moved in to wrap the tape around his waist “...the event at my ranch on Friday was a wild success, with the group so pleased they have already booked three more events. One each quarter, for the next year. With the possibility of an even bigger Christmas bash next year.”
“That is good news.”
“Plus, Brian and I have had a nice visit with my in-laws.”
Nash looked over to see her little boy walking around with his grandfather, hand in hand. “And as you can clearly see, my son has calmed down somewhat from where he was earlier in the week.” Callie wrote down a second number, stepped back. “Why are you looking at me funny?”
Nash pushed aside his earlier worry and shrugged. “No reason. Nice to see you so happy, is all.”
Callie laughed. “’Tis the spirit of the season,” she said lightly. “But you’re right.” She paused reflectively, her blue eyes sparkling. “I haven’t felt this genuinely festive in a long time.”
He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Like you almost have the real Christmas spirit?”
Tensing only slightly, she whispered back, “I wouldn’t go that far. But—” she looked around again to make sure no one was listening “—I was going to take Brian to get some pizza and see the light displays in San Antonio this evening.” She knelt to get his inseam, the sight of her before him like that almost enough to make him groan.
Clearly having no idea at all what was on his mind, she asked, “Interested in tagging along with us?”
With effort, Nash ignored the feel of her hands brushing against his inseam. “You bet.”
To Callie’s delight, her son remained the perfect little angel even after he said goodbye to his grandparents. His exemplary behavior continued throughout dinner with Nash, and then the drive to see the lights.
Nash was on his best behavior, too.
Actually, he appeared a little on the cautious side. Studying her kindly one minute, treating her with reverent tenderness the next.
And that irritated—and confused—her.
She liked the way he challenged her. Made her defend her actions as well as her feelings and come out of her self-imposed safety zone to deal with him head-on. Now, suddenly, instead of going toe-to-toe with her, the way he had from the first moment they had crossed paths, he was starting to treat her with kid gloves.
Why, she didn’t know.
Unless it was guilt. Because he thought he had seduced her unfairly. When really it was the other way around...
She figured she would find out later. Or be forever distracted by the shift in his attitude from sexy devilry to the perfect Texas gentleman.
In the meantime, she knew, there was still much to revel in.
So she sat back in the luxurious leather passenger seat of Nash’s pickup truck and focused on enjoying the festive sights along with her son and the handsome man beside her.
“Look, Mommy! Santa! Reindeer! Angel, Mommy. Snowman!”
And so it went.
Brian identified everything he saw with shouts of joy. By the time they got back home, carrying their boxed-up leftover pizza, he was fast asleep in his car seat.
Still fretting a little over Nash’s quiet mood, Callie unlocked the door while he carried her little boy inside and right up to his bed. Brian didn’t wake while she put him in his pajamas. A good sign he was out for the night.
Callie went back downstairs. Nash was standing in front of the fireplace, hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans, his jacket still on. He turned to her, every bit the gentleman she had wanted him to be from the outset.
Only tonight, Callie realized, it wasn’t his good manners she was interested in. She walked toward him, suddenly not wanting him to leave. On impulse, she kissed his cheek, found her way to his mouth. “Thank you for tonight.” She hugged him fiercely. “You were great.”
He turned toward her so they had full-body contact. “So were you.” Threading his hands through her hair, he bent his head and kissed her again. Slowly and deliberately. Until her mind was rife with all the possibilities she’d been forcing herself not to consider. She wanted a relationship again.
With him.
How crazy was that?
His eyes opened, smoldering and intense. He studied her as if he found her as endlessly fascinating as she found him. Lower still, his hardness pressed against her. And yet, to her mounting frustration, he was still treating her like some fragile flower. Which was the last thing she wanted. Especially from him.
“Something on your mind?” she asked finally, easing him out of his coat. Which wasn’t easy, since he half resisted her on that, too.
“Yeah.” The word was rough, impatient, in the way his touch was still not. “What is this?”
When she tried to evade his dark, penetrating look, he eased her back against the wall. Her heart pounded as he framed her face with his hands. And something unfurled deep inside her.
“Um...sex?” The beginning of what she hoped would be more sex?
Nash scowled at her lame attempt at a joke. “You know what I mean,” he said impatiently, giving her another long, indeterminable look. “Is this something fun and easy?”
Or in other words, the kind of thing that could end up breaking her heart—if she ever let her heart get involved?
“An actual date?” He continued his litany of choices with a certain unexpected weariness of soul. “The beginning of another one-night stand?”
Which, clearly, Callie noted by his deepening frown, wasn’t good with him.
He prodded her with a lift of his dark brow. “Something more?” he asked, the weariness sliding into hope. “Like the beginning of a long-term affair?”
Unable to bear the way he was searching her face, never mind the long-suppressed emotions he was conjuring up, Callie made a frustrated sound. Sighed.
He brought her close and kissed her again, even more persuasively. Until her breasts pearled and her knees weakened. Then he made his way down her throat.
Still a force of masculinity and stubborn resolve, he continued to persist.
“Or something a lot less...?”
It sure felt like a lot.
Except not less...more.
So much so, it felt like she was on the brink of falling in love.
But not wanting to say that out loud for fear of exposing herself to heartbreak again, she shook her head, looked deep into his eyes and coaxed a smile from him instead.
For reasons she told herself she was just going to have to accept, Nash seemed to be wanting reassurance that she would be okay no matter how this attraction of theirs turned out.
And now that she finally knew how strong she was, that was something, Callie realized, she could actually give him.
“I don’t know what this is, Nash.” Her back still against the wall, she reached up and kissed him in return. Reveling in the hot, male taste of him, she admitted, “I’m doing my best to try to figure it out. In the meantime, I’m not about to confuse sex and love. And...” Callie flattened herself against him, ready to let herself need—to feel—just a little bit. “Neither should you.”
His body relaxed in relief. “Sure?”
“Positive.” Determined to prove she spoke the truth, Callie molded her mouth to his, savoring his heat and strength, the fact he was so big and tall and male. So upfront about his desire for her. Yet so willing, when he let his guard down, too, to let her call the shots and set the pace, if that was what she wanted.
She sighed, inhaling the brisk, wintry scent of his cologne, the unique masculine fragrance of his skin. Then set about to show him how truly unfragile she was. And got his deep, steady pursuit, his ability to make her practically burst into flames with just a kiss, instead.
She didn’t know why she was so surprised he had taken what she started and commandeered this for his own. When Nash put his mind to something, he persevered with single-minded concentration. And when he wanted to tease her to distraction, and maybe start to seduce her in the process, well, he did that, too.
Excited to have him finally reacting the way she wanted him to, she fisted her hands in his shirt and rose on tiptoe, aware that once again she was incredibly, amazingly alive.
As was he...
Dear Lord, so was he.
His mouth continued working little miracles, first on her lips, then her jaw, down her throat, to the U of her collarbone. She shuddered against him, wanting him desperately, trembling with need. Then he kissed her again, until he was breathing as raggedly as she was.
He slipped a hand beneath the hem of her sweater, past her bra, to the top curve of her breast. Her body melted into the possessive caress.
He drew back to look at her. Smiling now. Definitely reassured. “Figured it out yet?”
She grinned at the return of his playful side. “Figured what out?”
He found her nipple, caressing it so gently she moaned.
“What this is.”
“Still working on it,” she promised, kissing him again, and jumping back into life.
“Me, too,” he murmured back, sounding every bit as intent on finding intense satisfaction as she was.
Callie laughed. “That and more,” she said coyly.
Bodies on fire from the inside out, still making out, they slow-danced their way through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, to her bedroom. Behind the locked door, in the soft lamplight of her bedroom, they faced each other yet again.
And Callie knew.
None of this was simple, not at all. But at least she had one thing.
Somewhere in the past fifteen minutes, Nash had stopped treating her with kid gloves.
Nash let her tug her sweater over her head just because it was so exciting to watch her begin a deliberate striptease. He took over when it came to her bra. Her breasts were round and luscious, the nipples a deep impertinent rose. He bent his head, resolved to cherish and care for her the way she deserved. She tasted every bit as good as he recalled, and he moaned, taking her all the way into his mouth. She quivered against him, holding him close, urging him on.
Heart racing, he found the zipper to her jeans. When they were both naked yet again, he backed her toward the bed. He kissed her long and hard and deep, until she made that helpless sound, low and soft, in the back of her throat, the sound that said she knew how much he wanted her and always would, and his own blood began to boil.
Determined to make her his, he knelt before her, positioning himself between her legs, stroking the silken insides of her thighs and the satiny petals until dampness flowed. Over and over, his fingers made lazy circles, moved up, in, his lips hotly, rapaciously tracing the sensual trail. She arched, bucked, suddenly right where he wanted her, shuddering with release, pleading, murmuring his name.
Eager to please her even more, he drew her down onto the bed.
“My turn,” she rasped, moving over him. Giving him everything he wanted, her fingers, hands, lips roving over him, laying claim to every sensitive ridge and plane.
Taking his time, making it last, he lifted her over the top of him. Straddling him, she gave him full rein, her back arching as he slowly, deliberately penetrated her, her thighs falling even farther apart.
Until he was aware of every soft, warm inch of her, inside and out. Every sigh of surrender and pulsation of need. Until there was no more reason, no more holding back, nothing but pleasure for both of them. Only a sweet, swirling oblivion that led to the most magnificent peace Nash had ever known.
For long moments, they held each other tightly, still shuddering, breathing hard.
This time, when she collapsed against him, her face pressed against his neck, she didn’t pull away. Loving the warmth and softness of her, he stroked one hand through her hair, cuddled her closer still.
Finally he lifted his head and, unable to resist, said, “Just out of curiosity...is this a date?”
She laughed, as he meant her to. And continued looking at him as if she, too, felt connected in a very fundamental way.
“Not sure about that, either,” she drawled, looking every bit as strong and resolute as he had estimated her to be.
Gently, she rubbed her palm across his chest. “What do you think?” Her hand came to rest in the region of his heart. Her gaze grew as tender as her voice. She waited for his response.
“It’s definitely something,” he proclaimed tenderly. And to prove it, he rolled so she was beneath him, and made love to her all over again, even more slowly and thoroughly this time.
Although Callie was tempted to stay wrapped in Nash’s arms and fall asleep, she knew it would be too confusing for her son to find his friend Nash there in the morning.
And maybe, despite the depth and breadth of her attraction to Nash, too unsettling for her, too. Because although she knew she was ripe for “just an affair”—and a possibly short-lived one at that, given how confused things still were—she wasn’t sure Nash was. So as soon as her aftershocks faded, she extricated herself from his arms, rose, slipped on a robe and went to check on her son.
To her relief, Brian was sleeping soundly.
Restless, she went back downstairs, where the lights were still blazing. Realizing she was starving, she found her way into the kitchen.
Seconds later, Nash joined her. Barefoot, jeans on and unsnapped, unbuttoned shirt hanging loosely across his broad shoulders, he looked sexy, disheveled and tender as could be.
Her heart took a telltale leap, then constricted with the equally potent fear that she was getting in too fast, too deep.
“Missed you.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she fibbed.
He ambled closer, wrapped a possessive arm about her waist and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Without you, neither could I.” He looked around and saw she was already preheating the oven. “So. What’s going on?”
“I’m hungry. How about you?”
He nodded. Waited. As if knowing there was a lot on her mind.
Callie sighed. “I thought I would feel guilty when I finally made love with someone again.” She layered the leftover pizza on a baking sheet and slid it in the oven. Going to the fridge, she brought out a couple of Texas beers and two slices of lime. Maybe it was time to relax.
He accepted the drink with a wordless look of thanks. “And did you?”
“A little.” Callie paused to work the citrus wedge into the neck of the bottle. “The first time.” She’d also been pretty confused.
He untwisted the cap on his and took a sip of the golden brew. “And now?”
Callie drew a breath and said honestly, “To my surprise, I’m not at all conflicted.” She felt, as odd as it might sound, that the two of them were fated to be together.
“And that bothers you?”
Callie took another sip of the simultaneously tart and mellow beverage. “A little. I never thought I was the type of person to have a casual affair, or to make love without being in love, but...”
Setting his beer aside, he hooked his foot beneath the rung of the chair, sank down into it and pulled her onto his lap. His hands moved soothingly up and down her spine. “Keep talking.”
Callie settled cozily on his thighs and wreathed her arms around his strong, warm shoulders. “I really like being with you.” She smiled affectionately. “And Brian enjoys your company, as well.”
He lifted the curtain of her hair, brushing against her chin, and kissed the shell of her ear. “I really like being with you and your son, too.”
Callie swallowed, as she began to feel nervous all over again. She arched her brow. “Sensing a pattern here?”
His gaze narrowed. “If so, it’s definitely one I like.” He hugged her close before drawing back again to lock gazes with her. “We don’t have to put a label on this, Callie.” Gently, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to think about what it all means, at least not right now.”
Her anxiety beginning to subside, Callie studied him in return. “You’re okay with that?” she asked. “Taking it one day, one moment, at a time?”
Nash nodded. He tilted his head and kissed her again, even more tenderly and evocatively. “I am.”