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Why the hell had she run off like that? Not like he’d pushed her. Frustrated, Jake tossed back a swallow of the brandy he’d barely touched earlier, then poked and prodded at the half-burned logs as though they’d earned his wrath. He paced in front of the fire, pitching in some fresh fuel while annoyance warred with a slim edge of guilt.
He hadn’t pushed her, dammit, but he never should’ve touched her. Barely knew her. Hell, he should be keeping a professional distance.
Was he supposed to follow her now? Or leave her alone?
He stopped to listen.
Nothing.
Fuck. He lifted the snifter to his mouth, but stopped. What would alcohol solve?
Glancing at his watch, he wondered how long it’d been since she’d left. When should he check on her? According to his sisters, there were all kinds of rules about when to leave a woman alone and when to ignore what she said she wanted. He’d always gone with his gut and never made assumptions, but Tara was an unknown entity. One wrong move—another one—and he could screw this up for good.
Wandering the room, checking out the collection of aircraft models, flipping open the books on planes, he replayed what had happened between them. Tried to identify the flashpoint that had sent her running from him.
Thumping the heel of his hand against his forehead, he thought about her reaction to the kiss. She’d seemed to want it as much as he did.
He hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t crowded her. She’d been warm and receptive for Christ’s sake, but the haunted look on her face when she’d shoved away from him—where the hell had that come from?
Something else going on with her, and he didn’t like it at all. He rubbed the itch at the back of his neck.
He marched down the hallway and stopped outside her bedroom door with his fist raised to pound.
Not a good idea. Dial it back.
He counted to ten, and then tapped with one knuckle.
No answer.
“Tara?”
Nothing.
He knocked harder and raised his voice. “Tara? You okay?”
Shoving the door open, he found the room empty. Fear fired in his gut as he backtracked, checked every room in the house before returning to hers. A waft of cold air had him reaching for the floor-to-ceiling curtains.
The patio door was open.
He stepped out and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of the big gray cat frantically pawing at the figure crumpled on the snow.
Training took over. He shouted her name, scooped her up, and ran, not stopping until he was in her bathroom, setting her on the edge of the tub. Glad to hear her mumbling through chattering teeth, he got the water started and pushed her hair back so he could see her face. Cursed at the lack of focus in her eyes.
He peeled off her frozen clothes, tested the water, and judging it to be only slightly warmer than her skin, he eased her in. Holding her hair out of the way, he grabbed a big clip off the counter and fastened a knot as best he could.
The cat hopped up to perch where he could rub his face against hers.
“Charlie,” she whispered. “C-c-cold.” Her eyelids drifted down.
Jake added some hot water. Gave her shoulder a shake. “No sleeping. Wake up.”
“C-c-cold.”
“And getting warmer. What the hell happened? What were you doing outside?”
“Stupid.”
“I’ll say. What were you thinking?”
“D-didn’t want to th-think. Too much thinking. Need to be c-careful.”
“That was a helluva long way from careful, lady.”
“Can’t r-risk...”
He let out some water, added more hot.
“Scared.”
That made two of them. She was coming around quickly, thank God. But he didn’t loosen his grip on her upper arm, afraid she’d slide under the water.
He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “Did I scare you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid...”
“Of what Tara?”
She tensed. “I’m naked.” She gripped the sides of the tub and water sloshed onto the floor. “My clothes. I’m naked. You took my clothes.”
He pried her fingers lose and slipped her cold arms back into the warm water. Rubbed them gently. The insides were all bumpy, so he turned them for a better look. Her skin was rippled and slightly purple-ish, like scarring from burns. She jerked away and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Your clothes were wet and cold. You were hypothermic.”
“Go away so I can get out of here.”
“No. You’ll stay right where you are until I’m certain you’re out of danger after that stupid stunt you pulled. You’ve given me—and Charlie—more than enough grief for one night. Do you have an electric blanket on your bed?”
“Don’t need one. I have a fireplace,” she muttered. “And don’t call me stupid.”
“What the hell would you call running out into the snow like that? Was I supposed to follow you? Or are you suicidal?”
Her mute stare told him nothing.
“Do you promise to stay put while I make you a hot drink and get the fire in your room started?”
She nodded.
“If you move from here, so help me, your ass will be in a sling.”
Mortified by the entire situation, Tara crawled out of the tub as soon as he was gone, toweled off with shaky hands, grabbed sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt from the back of the bathroom door, and wobbled her way to bed. Charlie followed and draped himself over her legs as if trying to make sure she stayed there. What had she done? Such an asinine mistake was so unlike her. She was careful, never emotional. She’d been overwhelmed. Allowed herself to be overwhelmed and that was just ridiculous. Behavior unbecoming.
When Jake came into the room, she thought he actually growled before setting the cup of hot chocolate on the bedside table. Without a word, he went about building a roaring blaze in the fireplace.
Unable to reach for the mug because the shivering had started back up with a vengeance, she curled in a ball and stuffed her hands between her thighs to warm them. Watched Jake. Tried to smile through her chattering teeth when he approached her, but it was a pathetic attempt.
He propped her up and held the cup to her lips. “It’s only lukewarm, so try a couple of swallows.”
She managed one and started to cough.
“Sonofabitch,” he said, stripping down to navy blue boxers and crawling under the covers with her.
“No. I’ll be f-f-f-fine.” She tried to resist when he gathered her into his warmth.
“Shut up and be still, for Christ’s sake.”
#
Waking up alone didn’t stop the slide show of memories from the night before. Tara dragged the covers back over her head with a groan.
A throaty male laugh had her peeking out again and there he was, leaning on the doorjamb.
“Oh, lord. It wasn’t a bad dream, was it?”
“Nightmarish moments, but all real.” He smirked. “I had a wonderful time. Brandy by the fire, a hot bath, a bedroom fireplace, a compliant woman in my arms, and not a wink of sleep all night. I’d call that heaven.” He sauntered across the room, planted a firm kiss on her stunned mouth then waltzed out without a backward glance.
She imagined she must look like a freshly caught trout, eyes bulging, mouth gaping, gasping for air. Propped on an elbow, she met Charlie’s gaze, but he simply yawned, wound himself into a ball, and went to sleep.
Only one way to get answers, she supposed, but took her time making the bed and getting dressed for the day before the smell of coffee drew her to the kitchen—and the man she’d apparently slept with.
Tara hesitated in the doorway, watched Jake’s hands as he efficiently flipped eggs and turned bacon. Long fingers. She vaguely remembered them undoing the buttons on her shirt. Something stirred inside her, but she shook it off. Couldn’t get involved. Needed to apologize for misleading him.
But before she could say a word, he muttered something she didn’t catch and strode to her, took her face in both hands, and dropped his mouth over hers. A long, deep, soul-searching kiss had her heart aching and her toes curling. But he let her go abruptly and returned to the stove, saying, “Nothing happened last night. That is, nothing besides you scaring the hell out of me by nearly freezing to death.”
“I—”
“Breakfast’s ready. Why don’t you set the table?”
On shaky ground, it was simpler to comply than object. The mundane task would ground her, get her past that scorching kiss and erase all thoughts of last night. Well, at least push them aside for now and not let her think about what an idiotic thing she’d done. Or that he’d stripped her naked and dumped her into the tub.
She arranged placemats and utensils. He’d spent the night in her bed—wrapped around her for heaven’s sake—and hadn’t made any kind of a move, had he? But that kiss just now...
Let it go. Just let it go and pretend today is no different than yesterday.
“Sit,” said Jake as he put their full plates on the dark brown mats.
She did, but could only stare at the food.
“Tara?”
She met his gaze and saw nothing unusual in his expression. Reached for her fork, but dropped her hand into her lap instead. “I want you to know that last night... Last night wasn’t on purpose. And I’m not generally stupid. I—” She looked away, then back at him. “I’m never emotional and I don’t normally drink alcohol. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
He took his time, plucking a slice of bacon off his plate, chewing it, then wiping his mouth and fingers. “I walked out to check the road earlier and it hadn’t been plowed, so I guess we’re spending another day together.” He chose another piece of bacon. “You okay with that?”
“I am,” she said without hesitation. “How about you?”
“What if I feel like kissing you again?”
Her smile came unbidden, but her frown was quick to follow. “I don’t do relationships.” She lifted her hands, palm out. “I know that’s not what you asked, but I have to remind you anyway. Once you leave here tomorrow I won’t see you again. Ever.” And her heart hurt because of the truth in her words.
“If one day’s all we have, why not enjoy it?”
Why not, indeed, she thought. Wasn’t it time she had some fun? Something lightened inside her. “Have you ever tried snowshoes?”
It took Jake only a few awkward steps to get the hang of how to maneuver with flat wide surfaces attached to the bottoms of his feet, and they set off for the lake.
“You lived around here long?”
“Just about forever,” she answered. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“LA, mostly.”
“Mostly?” She turned left so they could walk side-by-side along the frozen shoreline.
“I grew up there, but now I live in Texas with extended family.”
“Extended family?”
“Uncles, aunts, cousins. A whole slew of us work together.”
She loved the way the fresh snow poofed with every step she took. It made her think of icing sugar. “But your parents are in Los Angeles.”
He reached a hand to help her over a gully of ice where a creek fed the lake in the summer. “Condensed version. My parents are retired, Dad was LAPD, Mom a school teacher. They spend months at a time on the road in their RV. My bro’s a year older than me, and my sisters are five, six, and seven years younger.”
“I bet you were a protective older brother.”
He laughed. “Both of us were. Still are.”
“Is he in law enforcement too?”
“LAPD. So’s one of my sisters. The other two are teachers. I’m the only pilot in the group.”
This was something she understood. “What was that like?”
Jake loosened up as he rambled on about the life they’d had as kids, how the family all seemed to be cut from the same cloth, except him. He’d always felt different because of his passion for the sky. He’d wanted to fly since before he could remember. Had dreams where he could simply concentrate very, very hard and lift off the ground in flight, drifting above everyone, brushing the treetops. He laughed and said he must have seen the Wizard of Oz or Peter Pan too many times. He’d lived for the day he could become a pilot.
Tara smiled at this. She’d grown up listening to her mother talk the same way. Her mom had been so full of life when she was in the air.
“So, why are you working as an investigator instead of a pilot?” It seemed wrong not to follow his passion.
He shrugged. “Flying was always my pastime, not my job. My family has a long history in the armed forces and law enforcement, so I followed the path expected of me. Started with the local PD, moved on to the FBI, and then a buddy and I opened a PI business. Last year, I sold out to him and joined my cousin’s security company.”
“You happy there?”
“Yeah. Finally. We do some important stuff, and I love that no two days are ever the same.”
Her job was never boring either, so she understood his thinking. A comfortable silence enveloped them. The sky had darkened and the air stilled to the point she could almost hear the first snowflakes touch the ground. They were the gentle kind that seemed to float on their own path, meandering toward their designated landing spot. The pureness in the landscape filled Tara with peace and allowed her soul to settle. She abandoned worry and speculation.
Whatever would be, would be. And she’d just have to deal with it then.