It was so easy.
Like being together was meant to be.
Trevor drove Chynna back to the lodge and they rode in silence, but not an awkward one. They both knew where they were going and why. Unless he was a lot less perceptive than he thought he was, they were both excited about it, too.
He no sooner had the thought than Chynna cast him a wicked little smile. Her eyes were sparkling and she surveyed him, her smile turning devilish.
Oh yeah. They were definitely on the same proverbial page.
He parked in his usual spot and went around to get her door.
“There are so many stars,” she said, tipping back her head to look. “In the city, I forget.”
“In the city, there are brighter lights to look at,” he said, then stole a kiss. She leaned against him, slipping her hands beneath his leather jacket and spreading them flat across his chest to explore him. Her hands eased around his back then her arms tightened around him, her breasts pressing against his chest. He echoed her movement, drawing her closer. She was soft and warm, and opening her coat released a waft of musky perfume.
He caught a whiff of her own scent, too, and that was all the encouragement he needed to kiss her more deeply. She opened her mouth to him, welcoming his touch with an abandon that stole his breath away.
He broke their kiss before they ended up doing it in the parking lot. She was flushed and a little out of breath, and her eyes were sparkling. Trevor guided her to the door. “Your place or mine?” he asked in the lobby and she laughed at him. The kid on the desk gave a wave and ducked into the office to answer a ringing phone.
“You’re staying here, too?”
“It’s the best place in town, if I say so myself.”
“Whose room is bigger?”
“Mine, but yours is fancier.”
“Yours,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “I’m ready to see the sights.”
“Honey Hill doesn’t have many sights. There’s the lake, and the stars...”
“And your tattoo,” she said with resolve. “I want to see it all.”
Trevor grinned and captured her hand, leading the way. “You do just want me naked.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not if you’re going to get naked, too.”
“Of course!” She bumped shoulders with him companionably as they walked down the corridor to his room. The contact was casual, as if they were buddies, but Trevor’s reaction was a lot hotter than he’d feel with a friend. She was less mysterious than she had been and he wondered if she was changing her mind.
Or nervous.
But why?
He opened the door to his room and flicked the switch. The pair of table lamps were connected to it, and their light was soft. The main room looked welcoming, at least to his eyes. It was furnished by the lodge and cleaned by the housekeeping staff, but was his current home.
“A suite!” Chynna exclaimed, peeking into the bedroom.
“Just a small one. Don’t miss my fabulous view of the parking lot.” He always kept the drapes closed but Chynna went and peeked through the gap.
“Nice. I suppose the view of the lake is what guests want.”
“Absolutely. How’s your view?”
“It was dark when I got here so I’m not sure.” She closed the drapes before surveying it again. “It looks more like an apartment than a hotel room.”
She’d noticed the pictures and other personal effects, then.
“I’m working at the lodge for a bit, so am living here, too. Would you like a drink?”
She shook her head. “Why don’t you get an apartment? You’d have more privacy and a kitchen, too.”
“With Spencer in the kitchen here at the lodge, all I need is a coffee pot. I’m not much of a cook. Are you?”
She averted her gaze and he sensed sadness in her. “I like to cook, but live on my own. I don’t usually bother.”
“You can cook for me,” he offered, hoping to make her smile.
She did, then gestured to the coffee pot. “You don’t have a kitchen.”
Trevor laughed. “We can sneak downstairs in the middle of the night if you feel the urge.”
“That’s not the urge I’m feeling right now,” Chynna said, looking sultry again. She took off her coat and Trevor took it from her to hang it up. By the time he turned back, she was unfastening the zipper in the back of her sequined dress and had kicked off her boots.
Maybe this was going to be quick.
He hoped not, but it was all good.
She dropped her dress over her shoulders and it fell to her waist. Her lingerie was more practical than fancy, which might mean she hadn’t intended to go home with anyone. It might mean that she just didn’t like lingerie. Trevor was one who cared more about what was inside it, but he chose to believe that she’d come home with him because there was magic between them.
Even though the magic seemed to have been dismissed in the parking lot.
He could see that there was a ring on that chain around her neck, a woman’s ring. Why was it there? Didn’t it fit anymore? Or was it a souvenir of a broken heart? Trevor wanted to know but knew better than to ask.
“Nice work,” he said, studying her tattoos. The roses covered her arms in full sleeves, then continued across her shoulders, as if they sprouted from there. She didn’t have a back piece, so maybe they came out of the void. Trevor realized that there was a hint of a trellis behind the roses, as well as little fairies hidden beneath the rose petals. He smiled at the whimsy of them, then noticed a spider, then another. There was a red heart in the hollow of her throat, almost like a medallion. He would have looked more but she tugged at his cuff with impatience.
“Let me see.”
“Why roses?”
“Because they’re about love, of course.”
“And the fairies?”
“Because magic is everywhere, even when we forget to look for it.” She’d answered these questions before, he could see.
“You’re going to be disappointed,” he said. “I only have one tattoo.”
“I hope that means it’s a good one.”
“I think so. I thought about it for a long time. I think it’s perfect.” He removed his shirt, fully expecting to hear a gasp of surprise. She didn’t make a sound, but then, Chynna was more accustomed to large tattoos than a lot of people. He turned around, expecting her to be studying the tattoo with professional interest.
Instead, she looked shocked. She was pale and her eyes were wide, her mouth open slightly in her astonishment.
But she was a tattoo artist, and millions of people had swimming koi tattoos. It was a classic. Trevor frowned. “I didn’t think it would shock you. It’s a pair of koi. Lots of people have them.”
Chynna stretched out a hand and he saw that she was shaking. “When did you have this done?” she whispered.
“About twelve years ago. In New York. Really talented artist.”
She swallowed, taking a step closer, her gaze roving over the tattoo. “Oh yes,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
Trevor was surprised that she was so emotional, then he had an idea. She was a tattoo artist from New York, after all. “Do you know Tristan?”
“Did,” Chynna corrected, then met his gaze. “He’s dead.”
It was Trevor’s turn to be shocked then. “You’re kidding. I had no idea.”
“Cancer. It was fast for him, at least.” She swallowed and Trevor realized she’d not just known Tristan: she’d been close to him. He watched her for a minute and saw how she struggled with her emotional reaction.
No, she’d loved that guy.
She still did.
He knew whose ring that was.
“Fuck cancer,” he said quietly, feeling cheated on a number of fronts.
She shook her head, losing a single tear. It fell like a diamond to the carpet. “I’d rather not get that close.” Her voice was husky, though she tried to smile.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Trevor didn’t know what else to say. He figured everything had gone wrong then and she’d pull up her dress, make an excuse and leave. He really didn’t want her to go, especially not when she was upset, but he wasn’t sure what to say.
Everything he’d said since taking off his shirt had worked so brilliantly, after all.
“Don’t be.” Chynna reached out to touch his arm. She ran her fingertips from his shoulder to his wrist and he realized she was caressing the tattoo, not him. She took a deep shaky breath as if to steel herself.
With her fingertips, she followed the outline of the koi that was swimming down from his shoulder, then the one that swam up from his wrist. Her touch slid around waves and the lotus blossoms, her gaze fixed on the ink. Her touch made Trevor shiver, and when she flattened her hand to make more contact and slid it back up again, he felt a surge of heat.
And desire.
He caught his breath and clenched his fists, not wanting to push her in this moment. The last thing he wanted to do was be a dick and intrude on her memories with his own desire.
She must have heard him, though, or felt the tension in him because she looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re very lucky. This is one of his best.” Her voice was husky. She seemed so vulnerable, almost overcome by emotion or maybe surprised—and not necessarily in a good way.
Trevor wanted to reassure her more than anything in the world. “I am very lucky,” he murmured, and smiled down at her. “I met you.”
He left her the choice, uncertain what she would do with it.
He hoped that she would touch more than his tattoo.
Chynna smiled and flushed a little, then reached up and touched her lips to his. Trevor had thought it might be a sweet kiss, or a dismissive one, but she angled her mouth over his hungrily. Her hands rose to his shoulders and she gripped him, pulling him closer as she feasted upon his mouth.
Relief surged through him.
If Chynna wanted a buffet, Trevor was hers for the taking.
Chynna had almost lost her nerve.
She’d been surprised. Seeing those two koi by Tristan, one blue and one gold, swimming in opposite directions on Trevor’s arm had taken her breath away. Chynna could have interpreted it as a sign that she was making a mistake.
But they were so beautiful, so perfect, so artfully drawn that she expected them to keep swimming and change places with each other. They were some of Tristan’s best, and so she chose to see the presence of his work as encouragement. Tristan, after all, had told her to fall in love again, though she had known it would be impossible. He had insisted that she continue to live after he was gone, but really, she hadn’t.
And these two beautiful fish reminded her of the promise she’d made to Tristan, the one she hadn’t kept. She wasn’t going to fall in love ever again—her heart had been surrendered forever to Tristan—but she could live.
She knew that Trevor was startled by her confession, but she touched him boldly and he seemed to forget the interruption. He let her set the pace but he responded with enthusiasm to every move she made. She caressed him, liking that he was so hard and thick, so ready. She liked how taut he was, how his body was like a work of sculpture. He took pride in his fitness and his appearance, and Chynna liked the result very much. He was strong and vital, powerful and gentle.
And he wanted her.
She backed him toward the bedroom, feasting upon his mouth, one hand locked around his neck and the other around his waist. His shirt was gone and his skin was warm and tanned. His hands were in her hair, cupping her head, as they kissed hungrily. When he backed into the door frame, he spun her around, breaking their kiss, and unzipped her dress the rest of the way. It slithered to the floor, the sequins gleaming, and she felt like a mermaid shedding her skin.
Her bra followed it and she saw him catch his breath. He smiled and cupped one breast in his hand, bending to kiss the nipple. Chynna watched him, her heart in her throat. It was easy to remember how showing her passion had excited Tristan and clearly Trevor felt the same way. She pulled his mouth back to hers and kissed him, her mouth open, her tongue demanding, and he moaned. The sound of his need enflamed her and made her want more. It made her impatient.
She urged him into the bedroom, its shadows illuminated only by the lamps in the other room. Even in the darkness, she could see it was tidy and simple, just a king-sized bed with two end tables and a bureau on the opposite wall. There was no clutter of possessions or laundry, no pictures to distract her, no television or clock. This room was more like a hotel room, anonymous and without distractions.
A veritable hotel room with a virtual stranger. She would never return to Honey Hill. She would never see Trevor again. Chynna could do what she wanted, when she wanted. She could act without repercussions or rumors or expectations. She felt gloriously unencumbered, free to give pleasure and accept it. This night would have no legacy.
It would be a new beginning.
The heart tattoo that Tristan had given her all those years ago burned like a brand.
Trevor’s legs collided with the bed and Chynna ran her hands over him with possessive ease before she unfastened his trousers. His briefs followed and she caught her breath at the size of him, then she bent and took him in her mouth.
He gasped with pleasure, his fingers tightening in her hair. She loved that he was surprised by her move and teased him with her lips and tongue. He whispered her name, and Chynna caressed his balls, feeling his response to her moves. She was sure he was holding his breath, so taut with need, but then he scooped her up in his arms, pivoted and laid her on the bed. Her panties were gone and he bent down, his eyes gleaming with intent, his mouth closing over her, and it was her turn to gasp.
He was relentless, persuasive, persistent and completely seductive. Chynna surrendered completely to sensation, letting him pleasure her and wanting only more. He was playful and that made her smile, alternatively tender and demanding. He surprised her with a brush of his teeth or a flick of his tongue, and she’d had any inhibitions, they didn’t survive long. She lost track of time and of every concern except Trevor’s skillful lovemaking. She heard her heart race. She felt her skin heat. She rode a tide of sensation, knowing she writhed on his bed, knowing she was incoherent in her demands, and loving every second of it.
And when her release came, it was joyous, jubilant, marvelous. She screamed aloud, as she never did, not caring who heard.
Trevor chuckled, a wonderful dark and sexy sound, then climbed up beside her. He wiped his mouth, his gaze devouring her. “Okay?”
Chynna was still catching her breath. “More than okay and you know it.”
She could see his eyes gleam, even in the shadows. His smile was irresistible and she ran a fingertip across his mouth, watching her progress of her finger hungrily. When she reached to replace it with her mouth, he met her halfway, leaning over her as they kissed with the same heat as before. She could feel his erection against her hip and reached to caress him but he broke their kiss, shaking his head.
“Not now. I’m too close.”
“But I’ve been ignoring you.”
He inhaled and ran a hand over her. “The way you come is like magic.” His hand closed over her breast and he pinched her nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb. Chynna arched her back as he watched her. “So beautiful, and so honest. That’s good for me as well as you.”
“Because you like to watch?”
“Because I like to make you come.” He bent and took that nipple in his mouth, tormenting it with his teeth and tongue so that Chynna was writhing on the bed in pleasure again.
“I’ll come again,” she whispered.
“Then scream again when you do,” he murmured against her flesh. “Make all the noise you want.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I love it. It’s like I’ve pushed you over an edge, like you can’t help but lose control.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Good. I love that.” His hand slipped between her thighs, his fingertips brushing against her clitoris again. She was so wet, so slick with need, but all she could do was part her legs in silent demand.
“Hearing me come or making me lose control?” Chynna asked, her words breathless. She wasn’t used to talking while making love. Tristan had always been intent but silent. She found it titillating in a way, and she liked that it made her more keenly aware that she was with Trevor, not Tristan.
Maybe that was his point.
Maybe he wanted her to be making love to him not to a phantom in her memories. Chynna had no quibbles with that. Trevor gave her all of his attention, as if determined to explore every inch of her, and she felt both admired and beautiful beneath his touch. His fingers were moving against her, his sure touch making her want to moan, then he slid two fingers inside her and Chynna did moan.
“More?” he asked.
Chynna nodded. “Oh yes,” she gasped.
He smiled and eased another finger inside her, his thumb continuing to rub back and forth against her clitoris. Chynna grabbed his shoulders and hung on to him, letting her fingernails dig into him and watching him smile. “Hearing me come or making me lose control? Which do you love more?” she asked again.
“Both,” Trevor whispered, abandoning her nipple to kiss his way to her mouth again. “I want it all,” he whispered in her ear when he was looming over her, pressing her slightly into the mattress. “I want everything you have to give, Chynna. I want you to scream and shout and scratch my back and wrap your legs around me. I want you to ride me until dawn.”
Chynna squirmed beneath him, mesmerized by his words and his touch. She seized a fistful of hair at his nape and arched her back to rub her breasts against his chest.
“Tell me what you want,” he invited in a growl. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” she confessed. “I want you and I want you now. I want all of you. I want it hard and I want it fast.” He inhaled sharply and she smiled at him. “Then I want it slow, while I’m on top.”
“Lady’s choice,” Trevor murmured and gave her clitoris a teasing little pinch. Chynna caught her breath, almost coming, but then he was reaching for the nightstand. He pulled out some condoms and she chose one, then eased it over him. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, then he was over her and inside her, the size of him making her arch her back again and moan. He paused and she felt him studying her. “You’re so tight,” he whispered, strain in his voice.
“It’s been a while.” Chynna opened her eyes and smiled at him, liking that his hair was tousled and his gaze intent. “But definitely worth the wait.”
“And now?”
“All of you,” she said. “Fast and hard.” She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, watching him inhale sharply. She ran a hand over his tattoo, admiring it again. He surveyed her and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe that she was with him. “What do you want?” she whispered.
“You. Right here and right now.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “With your eyes open.”
It was fair, in Chynna’s view. And because she was, she was happy to comply. She smiled up at him, winding her arms around his neck and drawing him closer for a slow, sweet kiss.
They moved together as if they’d been making love for years instead of mere moments, and he moved so that he rubbed against her just right. Their gazes locked and held, the heat rising between them as he moved steadily. Chynna was caught by surprise, the tide of pleasure surging through her with stunning power. She whispered his name and clutched his shoulders as she came in a rush. He roared as he buried himself deep inside her and came, shuddering with the power of his release.
They collapsed together, slick and hot, their breath coming quickly. She could feel his heart thundering where his chest was pressed against hers and she halfway thought their hearts were beating in unison.
Her heart tattoo was thrumming.
“Oh, Trevor,” she whispered when he laid his head on her shoulder, his breath coming quickly. She stroked his hair and his back, feeling fortunate that she’d chosen such a thoughtful lover. “Thank you.”
He braced himself on his elbow and smiled down at her, looking disheveled, pleased and very masculine. Her heart skipped and she felt self-conscious then, as if she’d made a mistake.
“Thank you, Chynna,” he said, then stole a kiss. “Give me a minute before round two.”
Chynna averted her gaze, not certain she could bear another round. How could she escape without insulting him?
Trevor felt the shift in Chynna’s mood. Her eyes revealed her thoughts so clearly. He knew that this was an exception to her usual choices and had wondered why. Her reaction to his tattoo made it clear that she was mourning Tristan’s loss, and he’d almost stepped away. He never wanted to be a stand-in for anyone else. Then she’d touched him so boldly, as if she was determined to propel them both onward, and he hadn’t been able to resist.
He knew he’d pleased her. He knew she was aware that he wasn’t her former partner, because he’d made sure of it.
But now, he also knew that she was ready to run.
If he hadn’t felt such a strong connection with her, he might have let her go. He might have made it easy for her, by pretending to fall asleep—or even really falling asleep. But Trevor wanted a genuine chance, and the possibilities of that would be improved if Chynna stayed.
If he forged an emotional connection.
He stood up and offered his hand to her. “So, tell me what you love best about what you do.”
She eyed him for a moment, then put her hand in his. “Why?”
“I’m curious. What’s the best part of being a tattoo artist?” He’d caught her attention and he knew it. He led her to the bathroom before she could change her mind, and turned on the shower.
“Thinking of changing careers?” she asked with a smile.
“No, I’m just always interested in why people do what they do. It’s clear that you like tattoos and an admiration for the form might be part of it.” He shrugged as he tested the heat of the water. “But it might be more. I’m thinking that it is, actually.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.” He smiled at her and Chynna smiled back, then joined him in the shower. It was a great shower, in Trevor’s opinion, tiled with large marble squares and easily big enough for two people. He was glad that his unit had this large walk-in shower instead of the tub and shower combination. The lodge also had good towels, great thick ones, and provided toiletries from a local artisan. The bathroom floor was heated, too, as well as the towel bars. Gabe understood that the spa experience was part of the appeal of a weekend retreat for many guests. Trevor had been the one to suggest they add two robes to each room. Guests could buy the robes if they liked them, and they’d already sold half a dozen.
Trevor worked up a lather with the body wash in his hands and began to smooth it over Chynna. “Full service?” she teased and he grinned.
“Consider me your slave of the moment.”
She laughed. “Oh, that smells nice.”
“Local. It’s good stuff.”
Her eyes sparkled. “And you sell it in the lobby.”
“Of course. I told you Gabe was brilliant.” He smiled at her and saw that she was less agitated. “Come on, indulge me.”
“Didn’t we do that already?”
“That was sensory indulgence. Tell me the best part of what you do.”
“Tell you a secret,” Chynna said, interpreting his question. She was watching him and he guessed that her secrets were closely guarded.
“Doesn’t have to be. It might be your official answer, the one you give to school groups when you’re invited to talk about your choice of career.”
Chynna laughed again, surprised into it. “I don’t get a lot of those invitations.”
“Neither do I, actually. I think they all go to cops and veterinarians.”
She laughed again, then sobered as she considered his question. “What do I like best about being a tattoo artist?” she mused as he washed her back. “Well, there are a lot of things. I like the artwork and how a similar design can look so different on different people.” Her gaze dropped to his koi tattoo and he didn’t want her thoughts to follow that direction, straight back to her dead lover.
“What else?”
“I like doing the work. It takes time and it’s meditative, if the client isn’t chatty. I can focus on creating the image on their skin and bringing the design to fruition.” She nodded and took some body wash in her own hands, lathering it up. “I like that tattoos are art but not locked up in a gallery. They’re visible everywhere the bearer goes.”
“Art on the move.”
“Art loose in the world. I like that people engage with the tattoos. They look. They ask questions. They want to touch them. If nothing else, the ink sparks their curiosity. They assume that the images have meaning and want to know more.”
“They’re conversation starters,” Trevor agreed. “And mirrors of the soul.”
“That’s supposed to be eyes,” she countered with a smile.
“It is, but I think people guess more about you from these roses than from the expression in your eyes at any moment.”
“What do you think they guess?”
“That you’re a romantic. That you’re detail-oriented and private, too.”
“How so?”
“The roses are perfect, which makes me think you were particular about them, but there are secrets hidden within them.” He ran his hand over her arm. “I see dew drops and there’s a spider here, plus a little fairy face there. Someone has to look closely to see all the detail, and might still miss some of it then. That makes me think you’re a private person, one who doesn’t put everything in the proverbial window or confide in just anybody.”
She smiled, pleased.
“Your sleeves make me think that you’re an artist, because they come together with a cohesiveness that must have been planned. So maybe it’s been curated into coherence.”
She smiled at that.
“That you have such extensive tattoos makes me think you must be a person who lives by her own rules. That you’re concerned with beauty and visual effect, and that your definition of beauty might defy conventional expectation.”
“That is a lot,” she said, looking a bit startled that he’d gleaned so much. She was private, that was for sure.
Trevor took a risk then, in an attempt to put them on more even ground. “Go ahead. Play the game. Tell me what my tattoo makes you conclude about me.” She studied the koi, her expression serious, and he watched her swallow.
He felt as if things hung in the balance, but he’d always been one to take the risk.
Chynna dropped her hands to his skin, rubbing the soap lather over the fish, then wiping it away selectively. “That you’re discerning,” she said finally.
“Why?”
“Because you only have one tattoo and it’s a work of art.” She frowned. “That you have some money because this size of tattoo is an investment. Tristan had a reputation and was expensive. That means you were committed to having it. It wasn’t a whim. It took time, too. That probably indicates that you’re thoughtful, and that you do a lot of research before making a decision. I doubt that you’re changeable—you commit to a course and hold to it. A tattoo like this can’t be undone. It can’t be hidden either, so you’re confident of who you are and don’t worry about who sees your truth.” Her gaze flicked to his. “How’s that?”
“Windows to the soul,” he said, stealing a quick kiss. He spun her around to give her a little shoulder massage. “So, that’s what you love best about what you do? The visual experience?”
“No,” she admitted, surprising him. “It’s the people. I like that they come with their stories and their ideas and their needs and that they share all of that with me.”
“Needs?”
“For many people, tattoos are cathartic.”
“Like mourning tattoos,” Trevor guessed. He wondered if that’s what her roses were.
“Exactly. Those people talk during the work. They might tell me about the person or emotion that they want to commemorate. They might tell me about their loss or about their joy. Quite often, it’s clear that they haven’t talked to anyone else and so sharing the story helps them to heal. In a way, the tattoo becomes a living metaphor: as it heals, so do they. I like that a lot.”
“So, that makes you a kind of councilor or healer.”
She cast him a smile. “Not always, but sometimes. There can be a psychic exchange.”
“That must be hard on you.”
“It can be draining, but it’s good work. We had a rule at Imagination Ink of doing only one memorial tattoo each per day. Sometimes even that was too much. But even when you’re tired from sharing someone’s pain, it’s a good feeling. You know you helped, and maybe that makes the world a better place.” Her gaze rose to his and he saw how deeply she believed this. “You feel like you made a difference, like it mattered, and that is a tremendous blessing.”
Trevor nodded in understanding. He reached out and touched the tiny red heart tattoo on her throat. “Like these hearts, one of which is responsible for this wedding.”
She nodded. “It’s not the heart tattoo per se, at least I don’t think so. It’s that getting it makes the recipient reconsider his or her options, and maybe see something they overlooked before.”
“Or decide to do something about a dream, like Liv.”
“And Lexi, too. I felt that she needed a burst of confidence to reach for what she really wanted, and if the tattoo did that for her, it was a very good thing. The tattoo was a nudge. She had to do the rest herself.”
“Did you go to her show in New York?”
“I did.” Chynna’s smile was radiant. “She’s wonderfully talented.”
“So, which one is your memorial tattoo?” Trevor asked and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
Chynna spun to stare at him, eyes wide, then reached for the glass door. “None of them,” she said, her tone clipped.
Trevor knew she was running this time and it was his own fault.
On the other hand, he had just about nothing left to lose. “Why not?”
She pivoted to face him. “Because I didn’t want to surrender him,” she said, her tone fierce. “I wanted to keep the memory close. It’s mine.”
Trevor watched her, knowing instinctively that this was only half of the story. “Don’t you think you deserve to heal?”
Her eyes flashed before she turned her back on him and grabbed a towel. “I need to get some sleep if I’m going to sparkle tomorrow,” she said, her tone more formal. “It’s been a long day, but thank you for this interlude.”
Trevor caught her shoulders in his hands. He felt her resistance and released her. “No second round, after all,” he said, letting his disappointment show.
“The first time was more than good enough.” She smiled but it was a polite expression and one that didn’t light her eyes. He knew that she might as well already be gone. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” Trevor knew when he was beaten. He let her go, giving her a bit of privacy in the bedroom to dress, taking a moment to brush his teeth. He left the bathroom wearing a towel around his hips, and arrived in time to zip up the back of her dress. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, then slipped one of his cards into her hand. “Sleep well, and feel free to call if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” she said, then headed for the door. Trevor opened it for her and she shook her head.
“Always a gentleman? Or always serving?”
“The first in this case, although the second is often true too.”
She nodded, met his gaze briefly again. “Thank you, Trevor,” she said, her tone softer. “It was nice.”
After she was gone, he leaned back against the door, thinking.
Once hadn’t been enough for him, but in Trevor’s world, it was always lady’s choice. In this case, he’d pushed too hard and asked too much, letting his curiosity get the better of him, and he’d blown it.
If he had a second chance with Chynna—and that was a long shot—he wouldn’t be so stupid again.
In between, he had Gabe’s wedding to manage—in Trevor’s mind, Gabe was the client, not the actual managing partner of the lodge. Everything had to be perfect in the next twenty-four hours, without the client’s intervention or even knowledge when things went amiss.
It was a wedding. Things were going to go wrong.
Trevor would be on it, but even that challenge wouldn’t be enough to keep him from thinking about Chynna. Didn’t it just figure that he had offended the one woman to catch his eye?
Maybe he needed to cultivate a little of that mysterious air of hers. The idea made him smile again, because he was a straight-talker who always laid his cards on the table. Maybe he could hold back a bit.
It was worth a try.