Chapter 15

After a more thorough shower than the one I’d raced through earlier, I donned warm, comfy clothes, lit the fire in the living room, and then spent an hour in my home office preparing for the week ahead. Snow started falling lightly around one, right as Frayne’s car pulled up my driveway and into my garage.

Nervous anticipation bounded within me as I quick-stepped to the kitchen. Like a high school drum line practicing before a big competition, my heart was thrumming against my ribs. My fingers tingled across the doorknob as I opened the connecting kitchen door to let him in.

“Hey.”

His smile stopped my heart. Open and bright, with those cheek crevices pushing in deep at the corners of his mouth, when he lit on my face he looked happy and lighthearted.

Maureen’s words flew back to me.

The man has feelings for you.

Oh, how I wanted to believe it.

“Maureen sent this.” He handed me a shopping bag. “She thought you might be running low on—her word—provisions.”

“I love my baby sister.” I sighed when I took the bag, peeked in, and saw multiple glass containers loaded with food.

Frayne laughed as he placed his briefcase down on the counter, then shrugged out of his coat. “She said to tell you the same thing.”

“Give me your coat. I’ll hang it up.”

“I can do it.” The fact he was comfortable in my home sent a warm feeling through me. “You started a fire?” he called from the hallway.

“It’s cold outside, and I haven’t had one in a while. I figured it was a good idea,” I answered as I stacked the food containers in the refrigerator. “I love a fire in the winter, especially when it’s snowing outside.” This time when I found Frayne leaning against the counter, his hands crossed at his chest, I didn’t jump.

“Want to get started working?” I asked. “I’ve got some stuff to finish up in my office for the week ahead of me, so the dining room is all yours.”

“In a minute.” He pushed off the counter and stepped toward me, a determined, focused glint in his eyes. “First, I need to do this.”

I had a pretty good idea what the “this” was, especially when he cupped my chin in one hand and wound the other around my waist, hauling me flat up against him.

Kissing him the first time had been a mystery. Then, a revelation. Since I now knew his taste, the intoxicating feel of his lips, the way his tongue slowly and thoughtfully consumed mine, I let myself enjoy the sensations drifting through me, and freely gave up any and all control I had to him. I twined my hands around his neck, threaded my fingers through the thick, silky pelt of his hair and held on as if my life depended on it.

The hand at my chin drifted down and joined its twin around my back. Palms opened across my butt, and he lifted me even closer. So close there was no mistaking how the kiss was affecting him below his waist.

Time stopped. As did sentient thought. I stood there, encircled within the arms of a man I was rapidly losing my heart to—if I hadn’t already—and simply gave myself up to his care and keeping.

After a time, Frayne broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine. A sigh coursed over his entire body. Eyes half closed, he kissed the tip of my nose.

“I wanted to do that the moment you walked into your sister’s kitchen,” he confessed. “It took every ounce of willpower in me not to jump up from my chair and pull you into my arms.”

“I can only imagine the reaction it would have caused.” I grinned up at him, but I wasn’t kidding. Not even a smidge.

He took my face in his hands again and placed a sweet kiss across my lips.

“Cathy, last night with you was…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t find the words he wanted.

I caressed his cheek. “It was for me, too.”

“You can’t know how happy I am to hear that.”

Oh, I had a pretty good idea. Frayne’s face broke out into his charming, boyish grin, verifying I’d said the words aloud. Colleen’s habit of always saying exactly what drifted into her mind had started to influence me, and I wasn’t sure it was a good thing.

“Good to know.” His grin was playful. Then, he turned serious. “After I left this morning, I was afraid you might have regrets about what we’d done,” he said, with another kiss.

“I didn’t.” I shook my head and laid my hands across his chest. “And I don’t. Not one regret, Mac.” A thought bloomed at my brain and took root. I bit down on my bottom lip and asked, “What about you? Doubts? Second thoughts?”

“None,” he said without a beat. “And the only thought I had all morning was how long would I have to wait until I could see you again. Hold you again.” He rubbed his hands up and down my back to my waist, his fingers pressing along my spine, sending tiny frissons of heat straight down to my toes. “Make love to you again.”

A lump formed in the back of my throat, and when I swallowed, the action was loud in the air between us.

His mouth turned lopsided and his brows drew together when he added, “I wanted to follow you back here the minute you left the inn and continue where we left off this morning, but I figured it would make you nervous or even scare you if I did. Too intense, you know? Maybe too much too soon?”

“Why did you think I’d be scared?”

“Maybe scared is the wrong word. I don’t know.” He shrugged.

I wondered what he would say—or do—if he knew the utter intensity of my own feelings and thoughts about him?

Truth, I’ve been reared to believe, is always the best course.

Gently, I pressed my lips against his, kept my gaze attached to his own.

“If you’ll remember, I was the one who kissed you first, the one who showed you what I wanted. My hope then was that you wanted the same thing.”

“I did. I do.”

“Good to know,” I said, giving him back his words.

He smiled at me, then cuddled my head against his chest and wound his hands back down around my waist. Under his shirt, his heart thrummed with a steady, calming rhythm that soothed and stoked me at the same time. I could have stood here, held in his arms, for a lifetime. Unfortunately, life has a way of intruding on the things you want.

My cell phone blared, and with a breath crammed with regret, I pulled out of his embrace and reached for it. While I spoke with a nervous client about an upcoming legal matter, I walked back to my office and shut the door for privacy. Forty-five minutes later, I finally ended the call and found Frayne in the dining room, one of Josiah’s journals in his hand, an opened laptop on the table. He’d brought his own pair of latex gloves this time and a magnifying glass with a light attached to it. Those adorable glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, one eye shaded with his falling thatch of hair.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked.

“A few things.” He laid the book and magnifier on the table and tugged off the gloves and glasses. “Remember one of the questions I posed at the luncheon was where Josiah originally hailed from?”

I settled into the chair opposite him and nodded.

“There’s a brief mention, almost a throwaway line, about a trek from Richmond in the winter of 1787.”

“Virginia?”

“Maybe. I did a quick search online, and there are a few cities established and named Richmond at the time. I need to read more and see if he mentions which state.”

“Virginia, though, isn’t far from here.”

“Now, it isn’t. In 1787, it was probably a week or two on horseback.”

His eyes were bright and sparkling with intensity, exactly as they’d been the day we discovered the journals.

“If you keep searching, I’m sure you’ll find the answer. I’m making a cup of tea,” I told him, rising. “Do you want anything?”

His hand snaked out to grab my arm as I passed him. With a flick of his wrist and an easy yank, I was sitting in his lap.

The man had some serious hidden moves.

“Just this,” he said.

Then he kissed me.

“Just you,” he added, between nibbling the corners of my lips.

How was it possible to crave something as if your life depended on getting it when you hadn’t even known it existed until hours beforehand?

In no time at all, the passion radiating between us had us both devouring one another. My desire to have a cup of tea was obliterated by my desire to have this man—this humble, gorgeous, and fascinating man.

Every tug and swipe of his tongue made me writhe for release. In another smooth move that took my breath away, Frayne rose from the chair in one fluid stretch, me cradled in his arms, and without ever breaking our lips apart, walked us into the living room.

The warmth flowing from the fireplace was nothing compared to the heat radiating between our bodies.

“The second I saw you’d lit a fire, I wanted you in front of it, naked, and under me,” Frayne whispered as he nuzzled my cheek, “while I made love to you.”

I’d never been so happy in my life I’d struck a match to the kindling.

With one hand tucked under my knees supporting me, Frayne grabbed the afghan from the rocking chair and tossed it on the rug in front of the bricks. Bent on one knee and still supporting all my weight in his arms, he sat me down next to it. Effortlessly, he spread the covering, then slid two couch pillows on top of it.

On both knees now, he pulled me flat up against him. With our arms wound around one another, our lips fused, we sank to the floor in one slow glide.

The firewood crackled and popped, the fiery orange glow of the flames dancing over the room. I’ve always loved the smell of a fire, and the earthy aroma of burning wood filled the room and my senses.

Frayne eased back from the kiss and trailed a finger across my cheek. It was barely three p.m., but the snow had darkened the daylight filtering through the windows. Half his face was lit from the flickering fire, half shaded. Even through the dimmed lighting, the desire in his eyes was vivid and dazzling as he stared down at me.

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Your skin is like gold, shot with the light from the fire, your eyes like two polished, freshly mined emeralds. Bright. Incandescent.” His thumb stroked my bottom lip, and every nerve ending in my body fired from the sensation. “Your mouth is wet and red and swollen. I did that. My mouth on yours.” His voice grew husky with the revelation. When his gaze found mine again, it took everything in me not to cry out in wonder at the fathomless cauldron of emotions swimming in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Cathy. And I want you. So much, I can’t even find the words to tell you properly.”

Exhilaration bounded and flashed through me. For him, only him, I wanted to be beautiful, inside and out.

I snaked my hands under the hem of his sweater and pulled him back down to me. His skin was smooth and soft, and my fingertips singed from his natural warmth.

“Show me, then,” I commanded. “Show me.”

With a simple one-handed tug, he lifted his sweater and T-shirt up and off. His hair rioted around his head, and he swiped the sides back, off his face, smoothing it down.

That done, he pulled me up to a sitting position. My sweatshirt joined his on the floor. The plain white bra I’d donned today wasn’t anywhere near as sexy as the black strapless one had been, but when Frayne’s eyes drifted over it, across my straining breasts, and then dilated with desire, I knew it didn’t matter. He placed a sweet, wet kiss over one material-clad nipple and then sucked the tip through the fabric before moving to its twin. My back arched, allowing him better access, silently begging for more.

When his low, deep chuckle filled the space between us, I realized I hadn’t been silent after all.

The fact I wasn’t embarrassed by the knowledge was telling on my part.

Soon, the rest of our clothes were shed.

My hands found their true calling as they skimmed and stroked over every inch of his delectable flesh. My nails flirted with the corrugations in his abs; my fingertips teased his pebbled nipples; my palms smoothed and massaged the corded muscles in his back. And when my hand fisted over the solid, long length of him, felt him pulse and throb beneath my touch, a surge of power exploded through me again.

Before the smile blooming on my face reached fruition, Frayne had me flat on my back, the soft feel of the afghan skating against my naked skin, my wrists gently imprisoned within his hands and held over my head.

“You asked me to show you how beautiful you are to me, Cathy. Let me?”

That he’d asked, after the intimacy we’d already shared, was simply heart warming. A simple nod from me and he freed my wrists. I let them drift to my sides.

His breath was warm against my neck as he nuzzled behind my ear and then pulled the lobe between his teeth, biting down with his lips. A subtle shift and his lips dragged down my throat, over the pulse pounding in my neck.

“Your heart’s racing,” he whispered against the notch in my shoulder. He lifted one of my hands up to the left side of his chest. “So’s mine.”

He kept up his downward descent, his tongue licking across my collarbone then diving into the space between my breasts and lapping. He pushed my breasts together with his hands, then cupped and plumped each one as he drew one nipple, then the other, between his lips and suckled.

My insides coiled like a spring with each subtle tug of his tongue, tightening and spiraling dangerously close to unraveling. I threaded my fingers into his temples and clutched all that glorious, thick hair between them. Frayne smiled against my breast.

He moved down my belly, which by now had gone concave from all the air I was gulping in and gasping out, stopped to kiss my bellybutton, then moved farther downward, his lips never lifting from my skin.

That spring constricted even more as a steady, pounding pulse beat against the apex of my thighs. A nudge with his nose and my legs opened and spread wide at his silent command. My thighs quaked, my feet arched in an attempt to keep me from leaping into the air as anticipation sped through my system. When his mouth, his wet, hot, persistent mouth, tenderly kissed the folds between my thighs, my hips rose up, arching into him, pleading for…more.

Where had this demanding, insistent woman come from? I tended to think she was always inside me, biding her time for the right moment to make her presence known. And, I imagined, waiting for the right man to meet and fulfill her buried needs.

Mac Frayne, for all appearances, was that man. His generosity as a lover knew no bounds as he brought me to the pinnacle of pleasure and beyond. Tears blurred my vision as I gazed up at him after the tremors shaking through me subsided. Propped on an elbow with his free hand kneading one of my still trembling thighs, the smile he gave me was part delight, part arrogance, and all devotion.

“You’re beautiful in any light,” he whispered and kissed my cheek. “But by firelight, warm and satisfied, you glow.”

He swiped a finger at one of the tears spilling over from the corner of my eye.

“Happy tears?” he asked.

Words wouldn’t form. I pulled him down on top of me, cradled his head into the hollow of my shoulder, and, with our legs twined together, closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was in my own bed, the room dark. I was naked under the blankets, and I was alone.

The bedside clock told me I’d slept the afternoon away.

I had no memory of coming up to bed, nothing after the mind-blowing orgasm Frayne had given me.

Frayne.

Where was he?

I got up and took a quick look out the bedroom window. It was snowing heavily, the ground covered. From the depth of the tire tracks on the road, we’d gotten about four or six inches, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Welcome to January in New Hampshire.

The clothes I’d worn after my second shower were on top of my dresser, folded. I wasn’t the only thing Frayne had carried to my bedroom. I got dressed, ran a brush through my hair, then readjusted it back into a messy knot, brushed my teeth, and made my way downstairs.

The kitchen and dining room lights were lit, and the scent of burning wood told me the fire was still roaring. I found Frayne as I had earlier, seated in the dining room, typing on his laptop, totally engrossed in what he was doing. He was dressed again, but under the table, his feet were bare. My lips lifted at the chaos of his hair.

A warm, deep sense of contentment surged through me, coupled with a feeling of such intense joy I lost my breath as I stood in the doorway staring at him.

Was it possible to fall in love with someone in such a short time span? It was barely two weeks since we’d met, been lovers for less than twenty-four hours.

Could I be in love with him?

The thought should have been alarming. It wasn’t. If anything it was astonishing I could feel this much for a man after Danny’s betrayal.

Frayne stopped typing to read something on the screen. I slipped into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea.

“Cathy?”

“I’m in the kitchen.”

A half second later he joined me.

“I was trying to be quiet. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were reading.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I can’t believe I slept so long. I guess I didn’t realize how sleep deprived I’ve been lately. It finally caught up with me.”

“You were pretty conked out. You never even flinched when I carried you upstairs.”

I rolled my eyes and grinned as I took down two mugs. “I can’t believe you were able to get me up to bed and under the covers without my knowing it. You want a cup of coffee?”

He continued to stare at me, his eyes intense and inquiring.

“What?”

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Not trouble, no. It’s been a little…different without George. I’m not used to being alone in the house. I guess subconsciously I realize it and don’t sleep as soundly as I did when he was with me.”

He came closer, relieved me of the mugs, and then slipped his arms around my waist. My hands instinctively settled on his chest and, as I burrowed into him, my eyes drifted close.

“You’re so warm,” I murmured, snuggling even closer.

The strong, steady beat of his heart against my ear was soothing, and I had a fleeting notion to bring him up to my bedroom where we could lie together, cuddle, and nap some more.

Or maybe do other things aside from nap.

The whistle of the teakettle shattered the thought a second later.

“What have you been doing for the past three hours while I’ve been imitating a sloth?” I asked while I steeped my tea and set about making him a single cup of coffee.

His grin was quick and boyish. “Never that. I discovered the Richmond Josiah alluded to is the one in Virginia. A few pages after the first mention, he clarified the location. I’ve been searching through online government and county records and documents from the time period to see if I can get a bead on the Heaven name.”

“Any luck?”

“None so far, but not every county has digitalized their old records yet. I may need to drive down to Richmond for a few days and go through actual archives.”

A tiny sense of sadness swiftly shot through me at the notion he’d be gone. What did it say about me that I wanted to go with him? Chuck my responsibilities, my clients, Nanny, and take off with him?

“It’s too bad your schedule is so busy or we could go together.”

Let’s add mind reader to all the other attributes I’d already assigned him.

I handed him the filled coffee mug and glanced out the kitchen window at a scraping sound in my driveway.

“It’s my plow girl, Hailey. She comes when we get four or more inches of snow. Looks like we’ve got about six right now.”

“There’s a job description you don’t hear every day. Plow girl. As opposed to plow guy?”

“Her father’s the guy. He owns the business, and Hailey is one of his workers. They plow me out in the winter and take care of mowing my lawn in the spring and summer. Danny was never around to do those things, and I was too busy with my practice, so I hired out.”

“Two factors living in the city I never need to worry about—mowing lawns and shoveling snow.”

We took our mugs and walked back to the dining room.

“I think it’s time I start photographing and documenting Robert’s personal things,” I said after glancing at everything we’d unpacked. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can call Leigh and have the museum take possession of it all.”

“That’s not a bad idea. My eyes are beginning to cross from all the reading I’ve done today.”

For the next hour, we separated all the clothes we’d already unpacked into categories, Frayne inspecting every item, detailing the make, color, and time period of the pieces, and then dealt with the other items we’d found in the containers, while I documented them on my laptop and took pictures with my phone.

By the time we were finished, we were both hungry. The last time we’d eaten was breakfast, so I put together a simple meal of the roasted pork Maureen had sent, along with a salad.

As we sat and ate a leisurely meal together, it dawned on me how I could get used to this. Having someone at my table, enjoying one another’s company, talking about everything and anything that popped into our heads. Frayne wasn’t only an acute listener, he was a marvelous speaker as well. Maybe it was because he wrote for a living and loved words, but he never faltered when he was talking or stumbled, searching for a way to describe something or for a phrase. I loved listening to him as he told me about the research he’d done for the Dickinson book, or the traveling he’d had to do to discover everything he could about another of the historical figures he’d written of.

He’d have made a marvelous professor. I could imagine all the females in his class glued to the edges of their seats as he presented a living history to them.

When the dishes were done, he leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands once again crossed over his chest.

I’d been silently debating whether or not I should ask him to spend the night again. I wanted him to, but I didn’t know how to ask without sounding needy. Maybe he didn’t want to spend the night. Maybe he wanted to get back to his room at the inn, to his privacy.

“You look very pensive,” I said after I placed the last dried dish back in the cabinet. “Do people still say ‘a penny for your thoughts?’ Or is it too old-school?”

“Not in my book.” He pushed off the counter and crossed to me, a question in his eyes. He slid his hands into my own and held them. The gesture was sweet and endearing. “Look, it’s getting late, and the snow doesn’t look like it’s letting up. I should get back to the inn before it gets any worse.” Something drifted by in his gaze as he spoke. Regret? Disappointment?

That daring and brazen gene kicked into high gear again.

Boldly, I wound his hands around me and stepped into the space separating us, the length of my body settling against his. His fingers dug into my hips as his brows tugged together.

“Or.” I nuzzled my nose across his chin and then trailed my mouth along his jaw. “You could stay here tonight. If you did, I wouldn’t worry about you driving back to the inn in this storm.”

“You would worry about me?” His throat bobbed when I kissed the hollow under his chin, then down the column of his neck.

“Mmm. You’re not from around here.” He dipped his head toward me when I stretched up and pulled his earlobe between my lips. “During a snowstorm, the roads can be—” I bit down on it. “—treacherous to someone who’s not used to them.”

Frayne swallowed again. With my intent obvious, I snaked my knee between his legs and then lifted it to skim along the inside of his thigh. His breath hitched, and there was no mistaking how heavily aroused he’d grown.

“I think it’s better you stay here and…ride it out. Be safe, you know? It should be over by the morning, and Hailey will be back to plow again.”

Was it terrible of me that I sent up a silent prayer asking to be snowbound for a few days?

With a groan pushing through his lips, he flattened his hands across my butt and lifted me even closer against him. “Safe?” he murmured against my temple. “I think that’s…wise. To be safe. And not…sorry.”

The last word died on his lips as he crushed his mouth against mine.

Pretty soon all thoughts of his leaving were forgotten.

As discussed, he rode out the storm…in my bed.

And I rode him. Several times.