Hayley had to hand it to Marge, as she sank ever deeper into the steamy bubble bath, scented liberally with White Linen perfume. Her sister-in-law had thought of everything. White wicker baskets of His and Hers toiletries had been left in the bath. The old-fashioned feather bed looked soft and inviting, just big enough for two. And the lingerie she’d left for Hayley! Hayley blushed just thinking about the gossamer sheerness of the long, white gown, with its brief, lacy bodice and bare back.
She had everything she needed for a perfect wedding night except a man to make wild, passionate love to her. She shut her eyes and tried not to think about how much Dillon’s kisses had affected her. She had only to remember and she trembled.
Not that it was really any surprise to her she’d reacted that way. She’d been incredibly attracted to Dillon from the first, more attracted than she had been to any man. Including Hank. And that scared her. If Dillon decided to put the moves on her, she wasn’t sure she could say no.
She sighed, her heart aching as she thought about how long it had been since anyone had held her close or whispered sweet nothings into her ear, how long it had been since she’d felt really beautiful, really loved. She made jokes about it, of course, declaring to anyone who would listen to her that she was not a lonely widow, but the truth was, she was lonely.
She had no doubt, of course, that Dillon could be persuaded to fill the sensual void in her life with precious little encouragement. She’d seen the way he looked at her, felt the chemistry between them on more than one occasion and sensed that he would be a superb, inventive lover.
But she’d already been married once to a man whose devotion to his career had taken precedence over her. No, she was older and wiser now. She knew she wanted a cozy home in the suburbs, a safe place to rear her daughter, and a job she loved. And if some small hedonistic part of her was tempted to give in to the desire she felt for Dillon, especially on a night like tonight, then so be it. It didn’t mean she had to do anything about it.
Hayley stepped out of the bath and blotted herself dry with a thick fluffy towel. She had managed without any sort of man-woman intimacy in her life for the last year. For the sake of her dream, she could continue to do so during the next.
All that mattered was the deal she’d made with Dillon and the financial freedom the successful sale of his house would bring her, she decided as she smoothed on White Linen lotion in generous strokes. She would concentrate on the house and her plans for it. She let her hair down and brushed it into a soft golden cloud about her shoulders. She wouldn’t think about Dillon, or her growing desire. She wouldn’t think about his kisses, or the sensual fulfillment he could give her.
* * *
DILLON HAD NEVER PLANNED to have a wedding night, ever, but if he’d had one, this certainly wasn’t how he would have envisioned himself spending it: tossing and turning on an uncomfortably hard couch a foot and a half too short for him.
It didn’t help that he could hear Hayley tossing and turning in the squeaky bed in the next room, or smell the soft, womanly drift of her perfume. She was off-limits to him. They’d both agreed about that. And he was a man who kept his word.
Trouble was, he was damn near tempted to break that word, to simply go into the next room, take her in his arms and find out if there was as much sizzle between them as he suspected.
When he’d first met her, he’d noticed how attractive she was. Hell, even a monk would have done that. He folded his arms behind his head and grinned, thinking about how she’d warned him, right off, not to do a merry widow routine on her. Yet something in the feisty set of her chin had told him she’d been through the ringer since Hank’s death.
And like it or not, he did feel responsible about that. He scowled, irritated with himself. Because he’d been Hank’s mentor and friend, Dillon was stepping in for him, that’s all. He was taking pains to see that Hank’s widow and baby were set for the future. Having Hayley work for him was an added bonus….
But that arrangement hadn’t turned out the way he’d envisioned. He’d expected her to be more wifely somehow, more intent on fixing him breakfast and dinner no matter how he protested. Instead, all she seemed to really care about, besides Christine of course, was the damned house. Every waking minute of her days and nights were spent ripping out floor tile, carpet and old wallpaper.
Maybe if he hadn’t been such a jerk at the block barbecue, they’d be a lot closer now. Maybe if he hadn’t let the other guys assume he and Hayley were already lovers, she would be amenable to the idea of them as lovers now. But he had, and she wasn’t. So here he was. Married. Stuck on the damned sofa. On his honeymoon.
His sister would sure laugh if she ever found out what was going on right now. She’d tell him he was only getting what he deserved after so many years of drifting from one woman to the next. Not that he felt he’d mistreated anyone. He’d always parted on good terms. Perhaps because he had been so honest about wanting only a physical relationship.
He sensed it wasn’t going to be that easy with Hayley though. He was already getting closer to her than he felt comfortable doing. And yet it was hard not to do otherwise whenever he was around her, whenever he found himself looking into her jade green eyes.
He could still hear her moving in the next room. He shut his eyes. How in the world was he going to sleep under these circumstances?
* * *
HAYLEY WOKE shortly after two, shivering with cold and wondering what Dillon was doing. Too late, she realized several things. The cottage did not have central heat, or if it did, the thermostat wasn’t set very high. She should have eaten her dinner because she was ravenously hungry now.
If only Dillon weren’t here, she would get up, go into the other room, raid the refrigerator, stoke up the fire and then go back to bed. If only she had a robe, she might venture out there, anyway. But she didn’t.
All she had on was the very sexy nightgown. She did, however, have one of the comforters that had originally been on the bed. She could very easily wrap up in that. Dillon would never see her gown.
Satisfied she had a suitably modest way to proceed, she went to the door and stood against it, listening. She heard nothing. No sounds of any kind. Nor was there any light coming from beneath the door.
Quietly she slid open the door. Dillon was sound asleep, his large form sprawled on the sofa, the comforter tangled down around his knees. One arm was flung above his head, the other was folded across his waist. Both legs were bent in slightly, to fit on the sofa. The knee closest to the back of the sofa was upraised. The sound of his deep, steady breathing filled the room.
She moved as quietly and stealthily as possible around the sofa. She looked at him, to make sure he was really as deeply asleep as he appeared, before she began her task. And once she had started looking she couldn’t seem to stop.
He was so handsome, even in his sleep! The relaxed set of his features in no way detracted from the ruggedness of his face. He was a man’s man, in action, thought, deed and, yes, she thought smiling down at the agreeably rumpled layers of his dark hair, even in sleep. His skin was golden beneath the shadow of his evening beard. His dark thick lashes looked silkier and longer than ever. She felt a moment’s disappointment, not being able to gaze into his navy blue eyes. But that faded as her gaze drifted lower to his sensual mouth.
Her insides tingled as she recalled his kisses. He’d been fully clothed then, but she had still felt the hardness of his chest. Now he was shirtless and she saw the bunched muscles. They were covered with whorls of curling dark brown hair that arrowed down into the waistband of his silk pajama pants. The dark silk rode low, beneath his navel, and stretched across his abundant sex, detailing everything.
For a second, she imagined how it would feel to be held against him now, with only the thin barriers of chiffon and silk between them, then she pushed the disturbing fantasy away. Thoughts like this would not help her get back to sleep. Instead, they would keep her up all night.
She needed to get back to business. She moved past him and knelt before the dwindling embers of the fire. One hand still clutching the comforter she had wrapped about her shoulders, she reached for the fire screen, then drew back. There was no way she could remove the metal screen, stoke up the fire, add another log and replace the screen, all without being heard, not if she just used one hand. She would need both her hands. That meant dropping the quilt.
She cast another look behind her to make sure Dillon was still asleep. He was. Shivering with the cold, she shrugged off the comforter and turned her attention back to the fireplace. With two hands she silently removed the screen and set it aside. Reaching for a log, she positioned it crosswise over the dying fire. She reached for the poker and stirred up the flames. Satisfied, Hayley replaced the poker in the rack, sat a moment soaking in the warmth and then put back the screen.
“Nice job,” Dillon said softly.
Still on her knees, she pivoted and looked directly into his dark blue eyes. She gasped and her hand flew to her throat. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“That makes us even.” Dillon untangled his legs and flung back the covers. He flashed her an easy smile. “I didn’t know you were cold.” He grimaced and moved stiffly as he rose.
Hayley felt a lightning bolt of guilt. “The sofa’s that uncomfortable?”
“Well.” He shrugged his bare shoulders and flashed her another sexy smile. “Not as comfortable as the bed, I’m sure, but just as cold.” He shivered as the cool air assaulted his bare chest and he hunkered down beside her. She saw his nipples contract in the mat of thick, dark chest hair. Her lower abdomen felt oddly heavy. It pulsed wildly with the rhythm of her heartbeat.
“Damn Marge for not renting a place with central heating,” he managed.
Despite the chill of the cottage, Hayley felt a trickle of perspiration between her breasts and prayed Dillon wouldn’t notice. Turning away from him, she crossed her arms in front of her and rubbed her hands on her arms to generate some warmth.
“’Course,” Dillon continued, “they probably figured with the two of us in one bed, the bedroom door opened, the fire burning, that we’d be plenty warm enough.”
“True,” Hayley said. The room was dark, except for the glow of the fire. But in the moonlight, he could see she was wearing an incredibly sexy, lacy white nightgown that looked as wispy as chiffon and was just as sheer. The spaghetti straps bared the lustrous skin of her slender shoulders as well as the enticing upper curves of her breasts and the deep shadowy valley between them.
Dillon swallowed. The heart-shaped bodice hugged the fullness of her breasts, clearly delineating the soft, rounded globes and dusky rose centers. From there, the gown hugged her ribs, nipped in at the waist and flared out at the hips. A slit in one side of the gown, from ankle to mid-hip, bared one very long, very sexy leg. Dillon didn’t have to look at the shadowy golden vee between her legs to know she was naked beneath. The blood rushed to his groin. It was all he could do not to groan aloud.
“Nice outfit,” he drawled lazily, to cover the fast-growing ache inside him. “You ought to wear it more often.”
Hayley swiftly drew the comforter around her shoulders and aimed a killer look at him. “Very funny.”
“I thought so.” He liked the droll humor in her voice and the exasperated warmth he saw flowing into her cheeks. And he especially liked the way her honey blond hair was spilling over her shoulders and glowing silver in the soft moonlight.
“Hungry?” he asked. Not waiting for her to answer, he said, “I am.” He strode barefoot to the refrigerator and brought out two wicker gift baskets filled with gourmet treats. He handed them to her then went back for a bottle of diet soda and two long-stemmed champagne glasses.
“You know, if you’d eaten your dinner like a good girl this wouldn’t happen to you,” he teased. He set more goodies on the coffee table and moved it and the sofa closer to the fire.
Hayley sank down nervously onto one corner of the sofa. It was still warm with his body heat. It felt oddly sensual to her, sitting where he had recently slept. “What wouldn’t have happened to me? Getting stranded with you in the middle of nowhere or waking up in the middle of the night?”
“I am your new husband,” he reminded, as he unwrapped a petit four, handed it to her, then poured soda in the long-stemmed glasses.
“Why this and not the champagne?” Hayley asked.
He shrugged. Rummaging around behind him on the sofa, he finally located his robe and drew it on. Not bothering to tie it, or even draw the edges closed, he picked up his glass. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make you lose your senses.” It was going to be hard enough not to seduce her as it was.
Hayley tried to look away from the wide strip of hard male flesh exposed from neck to navel. She tried hard not to notice his firm silky skin or the way the silk clung to the most masculine part of his anatomy. She raised her glance to his and held it there. “Is that usually how you operate?” she asked lightly.
“Well, I do usually try to get women—uh—relaxed.” He grinned wickedly.
“I’m serious,” Hayley protested, knowing Dillon well enough by now to realize he would never willfully take advantage of any woman. He wouldn’t have to. He would, however, go after what he wanted with no holds barred.
“Seriously? I like women conscious.”
“I’ll bet.”
Dillon merely grinned. He stretched out beside her, lifted an edge of her comforter and slid in beside her, so they were situated shoulder-to-shoulder in the warmth. With his free hand, he pulled the other comforter out from beneath him and spread it over their legs, so the two of them were fully cocooned. Yet the pass Hayley half expected and knew she wanted, at least in a strictly hedonistic sense, never came.
They ate awhile in silence, consuming grapes, crackers, cheese and more of the delicious petits fours. Finally, when both couldn’t eat a bit more, they pushed the picnic basket away. Dillon replenished their glasses with chilled diet soda. They put their feet up on the coffee table.
“Dillon?”
“Hmm?” He sounded as drowsy and content as she felt.
“Do you think we made a mistake? Getting married today?”
Dillon turned to her, his shoulder nudging hers beneath the blanket. “Does it feel like a mistake?”
“It doesn’t feel like being married,” she confessed.
Dillon looked as if he’d had an enormous weight removed from his shoulders. He heaved a relieved sigh. “Good.”
Hayley stared into the flickering flames of the fire and tried not to take offense at the sheer depth of his relief. “I know what you mean. I don’t want to be trapped in anything, either.”
“But?”
“I guess I just wish…” Her voice dwindled off. She wished he weren’t under the blanket with her. She wished they both weren’t so warm or cozy.
“What?” Dillon slid a hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his.
“I don’t know.” Hayley resisted the urge to draw back. She swallowed around the sudden dryness of her throat. “Well, it’s complicated, Dillon.” She turned her head and looked away.
He dropped his hand back to his lap. “Tell me, anyway,” he persuaded her.
Hayley continued to stare at the fire. The flames were as blue as Dillon’s eyes. She wet her lips. “My life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.”
He shrugged, his shoulder nudging hers. “I think mine just took an unexpected left turn, too.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
He stretched his legs out even farther in front of him. “I live for the moment. I always have.” He slouched down, so the back of his head rested against the top of the sofa. “I thought you did, too.”
“Did,” she corrected. “Can’t anymore.”
“Because of Christine?”
“Yes.”
Dillon’s glance narrowed. He studied her bluntly. “Maybe that’s not so wise,” he said after a moment.
His criticism was casual, impersonal. Yet it stung more than she would’ve expected it to. “What do you mean?” Hayley asked, aware her heart was pounding in her throat again and that he was very, very close to her. Close enough for her to inhale the intoxicatingly male scent of his skin and cologne.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do literally everything for her,” Dillon said, capturing her hand with his own. He held it tightly. “Maybe you should do some things for yourself, too.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
His mouth covered hers and she lost her breath at the first touch. Everything around her went soft and fuzzy except the hard, hot pressure of his mouth.
With a low moan of satisfaction, Dillon threaded his hand through the hair at the nape of her neck and angled her head so their kiss could deepen. His other hand pressed against her spine, urging her closer, until her breasts were against his chest. He ran his hand up and down her spine.
He was generating flames of heat, tremors of arousal, and with them, Hayley realized, came the need to be so much closer. The slow, hot, gentle strokes of his tongue were unbearably sweet, unbearably seductive, unbearably intimate. Unable to help herself, she began to return his kisses, shyly at first, then with growing ardor. This was heaven, she thought. Certainly, the nearest she’d ever come.
And yet there were so many reasons, her baby the least among them, why she shouldn’t let this continue, Hayley thought. “Dillon,” Hayley moaned. “You promised. We said we wouldn’t…oh…” She shuddered as he touched her breast, cupped it warmly with his hand and worked the nipple to an aching crown. Fire shot through her, as elemental as the night.
“I know.” He gathered her in a persuasive embrace. “But that was before I saw you in that nightgown,” he whispered as his mouth moved expertly over hers, evoking another freefall of sensation. His hands caressed her shoulders, moved tenderly over the bare skin of her back. “God, you’re beautiful in the firelight, Hayley.”
Hayley couldn’t help it. She closed her eyes. So are you. So is this.
Her mouth was pliant beneath his, warm and sexy. Dillon put everything he had into the kiss, knowing this was his one chance to show Hayley how their lovemaking could be. Chemistry like theirs came along once in a lifetime—maybe. He was determined to savor this while it lasted.
“You don’t even know me, Dillon,” she protested. The pleasure he was bringing her was so sweet, so unexpected, so total, it was all she could do to keep from moaning again.
“I know enough to know I want you,” he murmured hotly. Once again his hands moved to her breasts. “Now all we have to find out is if you want me, too.”
He kissed her as he had during the wedding ceremony—firmly, with a deft, sure touch. His mouth was hot, the abrasion of his evening beard like fine-grained sandpaper against her face.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her until her breasts were crushed again against the hardness of his chest.
The scent of his cologne, so brisk and piney and evocatively male, filled her senses. Hayley opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside, delving deep. Another arrow of fire shot through her. She tried to fight it and failed, then moaned as the strength left her body. She trembled with desire.
“Dillon,” she murmured, trying to struggle free.
“Don’t fight me, Hayley,” he whispered, raining kisses down her neck, across her collarbone and the uppermost swell of her breasts. He pushed aside the gossamer fabric, baring one shoulder. His lips traced a fiery, erotic path. “Don’t fight the pleasure.”
And then his mouth was on hers again, plundering with a voracious intensity Hayley simply could not fight. She kissed him back; she gave up the struggle. Dillon was right. She did want this, had for hours.
Dillon swept her up into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to be comfortable,” he vowed huskily, stripping off his pajama bottoms and his robe.
Hayley stared, entranced, as he lay down next to her. He was beautiful, all sleek, supple, naked male. His arousal, so hot and hard, pressed against her thigh.
“Let me see you.” Dillon guided the gown off her shoulder. He bared a breast, laved it with his tongue, blew it dry with his breath. Hayley arched against him restlessly, needing more.
“I know, sweetheart,” Dillon whispered. Eager to please her, he swiftly bared her other breast. His thumbs and fingers playing over her nipples until they were tight, aching peaks and her knees fell open.
He pushed her gown above her waist and slid a hand between her thighs. She cried out as he touched her. She arched her back as heat spread through her in mesmerizing, undulating waves. “Oh, Dillon,” she whispered, drawing his mouth back down to hers. “Dillon…” She couldn’t believe how he was making her feel. She never wanted it to stop. Never.
Nor apparently did he, Hayley thought, as he made a rough impatient sound low in his throat and smothered her cries with his kisses. And all the while his hand stroked, explored, until she was silky wet, exploding with rhythmic, volcanic force. He angled his body up against her softness.
“Damn, Hayley,” he whispered breathlessly against her mouth, “you’re wild. And wonderful. Just like I knew you would be.” Sure now she was ready, he slid inside her.
Hayley arched against him, her hips undulating beneath his. She held him close. Her palms cupped his shoulders.
He answered her by going even deeper. So deep Hayley cried out, as did he. She ran her hands up and down his back, digging her fingers into the hard straining muscles, and clamped her legs around his waist, pulling him toward her. He murmured her name and buried his fingers in her hair. His arm curved around her hips and lifted her even higher, so her lower body was pressed tightly, irrevocably against his.
Her universe shattered. And then, as her common sense slowly and inevitably returned, she grew very, very still.
* * *
“IT WAS A MISTAKE.” Hayley declared, her gossamer gown a damp, love-stained tangle around her middle.
“Mistake?” Dillon echoed, his eyes trailing over her mussed hair and lower still, past her face, past her chin. Lower still.
She followed the direction of his gaze and glanced down self-consciously. Her breasts were bared. The nipples were rosy and erect. She couldn’t have advertised the pleasure she’d experienced at his hands more if she’d taken out an ad in the Times!
Her humiliation now as complete as his lovemaking had been, Hayley flushed from head to toe. Dillon grinned, looked even more content. Hastily she righted her gown, pushing it back on her shoulders, over her breasts and down past her waist.
“Yes, Dillon, it was a mistake. An accident,” Hayley clarified, as she willfully put their conversation back on track. She sent him a furious look. “It’ll never happen again.”
“Well, that’s a new one,” he drawled, reclining on the bed. He was gloriously naked and as unashamed of his body as she was inherently modest. “If that’s what it feels like to have an ‘accident’ with you, I volunteer to have a head-on collision anytime.”
Infuriated, Hayley jumped up. She stood beside the bed. To her dismay, the preemptive action only served to make her more acutely aware of the ongoing tingling in her lower body. She clamped down hard on her senses, telling herself she was not still aroused! Fortunately Dillon’s smug expression gave her the strength she so desperately needed. She studied him resolutely. “Honestly, Dillon. You didn’t think that—just because we—this isn’t a real marriage.”
“No,” he smiled naughtily, “but one with some definite perks.”
“Get out!”
“I don’t think so.” He lounged against the pillows, feeling more content and relaxed than he had in years. “Not until we talk this out.”
“Please put on your clothes. There’s nothing to talk out.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He folded his hands behind his head and propped one knee up. “Actions always do speak louder than words.”
“Then read this!” She tossed his pajama pants in his face.
Grinning, he palmed them, but made no effort to slip them on. “You sure are upset.”
“You noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed all right. It’d be hard not to with you pacing back and forth like a caged lioness. What I don’t understand is what the big deal is—” He straightened and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Hayley tore her eyes from his generously endowed form. She raked her hands through her hair. “The big deal, you idiot, is we just consummated our marriage.”
“Now hold on.” He held up a palm, traffic cop fashion. Finally his face paled to the parchment hue of hers. “We’re in a gray area there.”
Knowing he was now as terrified by the future legal ramifications of what they’d done as she, was little comfort to Hayley. “Oh, I don’t know.” She mocked his earlier drawl to a tee. “What we just did seemed pretty plain to me. It’s called—”
“Terrific is the word I think you’re looking for,” he interrupted.
Yes, it had been, but she would never let him know that. “Under any definition of the law—” she began tightly.
“Lovemaking is a normal part of any marriage contract.”
“Not ours, and it wasn’t lovemaking.”
“It sure felt like lovemaking to me.” He knew it hadn’t been simple sex. Simple sex left you empty. Sexually drained, but empty. What he and Hayley had shared had left him wanting more. A far sight more.
“Damn it, Dillon.” She flung her arms out to her sides. “This ruins everything.”
Her rising hysteria made it easier for him to remain calm. “I don’t see how,” he said practically, drawing on his pajama pants. “We still have our prenuptial agreement. You’ll still get your money from the house.”
“And in the meantime?”
He shrugged and pulled on his robe, again leaving it open. He stood and sent her a sexy grin. “In the meantime, we just found a way to make living together under the same roof more bearable. In fact, it might even be fun!”
Hayley stepped back so fast she crashed into the bureau. “No!”
“Why not?” Dillon put out a hand to steady her.
“Because,” Hayley stormed, shaking off his gentle touch and looking even more upset.
He let his hand drop slowly to his side. “Because why?”
She sent him a withering glare. “Because things are starting to get too complicated,” she said with mounting impatience.
He could see she was irked because he didn’t agree with her; he didn’t care. “They don’t have to be,” he retorted easily. “I want you. You want me.”
“Did want you,” Hayley corrected, looking down her nose at him. She harrumphed haughtily. “I don’t now.”
That was a lie, Dillon thought victoriously. And one day soon he would prove it to them both. But not now. If he did so now, she would turn and run. “If you say so.” His eyes gleamed.
“And stop looking at me like that,” she snapped, running her fingers through the tousled waves of her honey blond hair.
“Like what?” He watched as Hayley clamped her arms beneath her breasts. The action lifted them, made them swell above the lacy edge of her bodice. Dillon grimaced as he felt the blood rush to his groin once again.
“Like you’re going to seduce me again.”
Dillon moved away from her before his baser instincts got the better of him. “Hey! I didn’t seduce you.”
“You put the moves on me.”
“And you put them on me right back!”
She moaned. “Talking about it is just making it worse.”
He looked down at his fly, and lower, to the hard ridge of flesh. He sighed audibly and couldn’t help but remark, “Gotta agree with you there.”
Hayley turned bright red. She dropped her hands. “Forget it,” she warned grimly, giving him a killer look. “I have a headache that’s going to last for the next whole year.”
Dillon laughed, and though he was very tempted to prove her a liar here and now, thought better of it and sauntered out lazily. “We’ll see,” he promised.
Hayley marched after him, her bare feet smacking against the floor. She leaned in the door, her hands gripping the wood on either side of her, but didn’t go any farther into the next room.
“What do you mean, we’ll see?” Hayley demanded, her long-lashed eyes glittering like twin cuts of jade. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dillon studied her mouth. It was swollen from their passionate kisses. He studied her hair. It gleamed gold in the firelight and looked as it should, like she’d just gotten out of bed after rousing lovemaking. He studied her body. It was as luscious and inviting as a ripe peach just plucked from a tree.
“It means,” he warned softly as his eyes lifted seriously to hers. “That I’ve had a taste of what we could have, Hayley, and I’m not going to let you forget it.”