THERE WASN’T REALLY ROOM enough for both of them on the couch, but they managed. Entangled, naked, a blanket half covering them as they slept.
Well, Nell Rose slept, her back against his chest, her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Julian lay there, enjoying the feel of her skin against his, chewing on the fact that he should know better but was very glad that he’d ignored his good instincts in this case.
Nell Rose Collins, for all her talk about independence and a lack of expectations, was a woman who wanted—needed—a relationship in order to be truly happy. Julian had given up on the idea of a healthy romantic relationship long ago. He liked sex as much as the next man, and he had women who were friends. But put the two together, and it was as though every speck of common sense went out the window.
His own marriage was proof of that, as was the scar Nell Rose had asked him about earlier.
Like every other cop, Julian had hated the domestic calls. When those calls were repeatedly made to the same addresses, it was hard to continue to feel sympathy for those involved. At first, he’d tried to do everything he could to help Kaylynn Smith—a young mother of four who was very pretty if you could see past the bruises her husband made sure she wore. She’d call 911 when her life was in danger, but when push came to shove, Kaylynn always leaped to her husband’s defense.
Until that night. On the night that had changed his life, Julian had walked up to the door of the Smiths’ small house, stepping around the kids’ toys on the porch, expecting to go through the same old routine. He’d calm everyone down, and Kaylynn would declare that she loved her husband and he was going to change. The bastard would apologize and swear it wouldn’t happen again, and Julian would be ordered out of the house.
What a waste of time.
He’d heard the gunshot as he’d lifted his hand to knock on the door, had drawn his weapon as he rushed into the house to find Manny Smith lying in a puddle of his own blood and Kaylynn standing over him with a freshly blooming bruise on her face, a small revolver in her hand and a deadly gleam in her usually dull eyes. She’d looked up, caught Julian’s eye and said in an emotionless voice, “I couldn’t let him hit my babies.”
Julian heard the little ones crying in another room, but he couldn’t see them from where he stood. He certainly never saw the next move coming, as a terrified and irrational Kaylynn lifted the revolver and fired at him.
He returned fire; she dropped to the floor beside Manny, and the kids came running out of the back of the house, screaming and crying. Their parents were both dead on the floor. Julian was wounded, bleeding, calling for assistance on his radio.
And the little one, five-year-old Jacy who had blond curls and a bruise that matched her mother’s, picked up the gun Kaylynn had dropped and walked over to Julian. With tears streaming down her face, she’d pointed the revolver at the man who’d shot her mother. Julian had stared down the barrel of a gun, and at the other end of that weapon stood an angelic-looking, utterly devastated child.
He’d surged up to grab the child’s wrist and push the gun to the side. She tried to fight him, screamed as he easily took the weapon from her. Julian bled, his vision swam and the wail of sirens grew louder, closer. One of the older boys rushed forward to scoop Jacy up and move her out of Julian’s reach, all the time glaring at the cop who’d killed their mother as if he wished with all his heart that his little sister had been able to pull the trigger.
That was horror. That was the nightmare that kept him up at night, that gave him chills—that had made him walk away from what others had told him was a “promising career.”
And now he hid here, writing stories that scared other people and avoiding women like Nell Rose like the plague.
Until now.
He buried his face in her hair, closed his eyes and ran his hand down her body, breast to thigh, his fingers delving between her legs to caress. There was nothing here but sex, no deeper connection, no romance. Tomorrow she’d be gone, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy tonight. Nell Rose woke slowly, her hips moving in time with his easy stroke. She sighed in contentment.
“I’ve never come awake like this before,” she whispered. “I like it.”
He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck, as his fingers moved deeper into her wetness, as he stroked her harder, faster. Her sigh turned into a gasp.
Julian didn’t know what twist of fate had dumped Nell Rose on his doorstep, or what trick of chemistry attracted him to her so strongly. Maybe it didn’t matter why or how. Maybe, for the first time in years, he should just accept and enjoy.
He felt her body begin to shudder; thrust two fingers inside her heat. She came hard and fast, making a noise deep in her throat as she jerked and trembled. Her body relaxed, she unwound. Melted into him. Her gasp turned into a sigh again, and he released her.
“You’re going to think I’m so easy,” Nell Rose said as she turned to face him, her lips tracing a line along his throat, her hands as bold as his had been as she lifted one leg and draped it over his hip, then guided his sex to hers and gently, easily, took him into her heat. She sighed again, rocked her hips gently. “I want more,” she whispered. “I want everything.”
And he gave it to her.
NELL ROSE WAS SAD TO SEE the sun come out, sad to see the snow begin to melt here and there. Since the sunshine had already melted a portion of the snow by the time she and Julian awoke, it was impossible for him to tell if the disturbance beside the porch was deer tracks or not.
She no longer cared much if what she’d heard last night had been a deer or a bear or a mountain lion. To be honest, she didn’t care about much at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so content.
Sun or not, they still didn’t have any power. It wasn’t as if she was suffering from the cold anymore, and they had everything they needed. Julian had even heated water on the stove and poured it on top of cold water in the bathtub, which was heavenly. She had candlelight, warm water, soap and Julian Maddox.
Now, this was a vacation.
It would be silly of her to imagine that this thing with Julian was more than it was. True, she wasn’t always clearheaded where men were concerned, but how could she not wonder what it would be like if she and Julian were truly together? Physically they were definitely compatible, but beyond that, did they have anything in common? Did she care if they did or not? Did he care? When he touched her this way, she thought…probably not.
She sat between his legs, his arms wound possessively around her. The water wouldn’t be warm for much longer, so she savored the sensations of warm water and body heat, of one body fitting so comfortably against the other. There was such a contrast between the cold air around them and the warmth they created.
“If the sun keeps shining, I’ll bet the tow truck will be able to get to my car by this afternoon,” she said. Could Julian hear the regret in her voice? She didn’t want to go, not yet. “Even if I can’t drive to the cabin I rented, I should be able to get a ride.”
“I can give you a ride,” Julian said.
Her heart sank. Obviously he wasn’t as happy with this arrangement as she was, though that hard length poking her in the backside kinda hinted that he was happy enough.
“Or you can stay here,” he added casually.
“Can I?”
“You can.”
“I don’t want to impose…” she began.
Julian laughed. She hadn’t heard him laugh often, and it was very nice. “Impose?” he repeated. “Is that what you think this is?”
Nell Rose didn’t know what this was. She only knew she didn’t want it to end.
“The water’s getting cold,” she said, leaning forward.
“So?” Julian reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back to him. “We can warm things up.”
“Why don’t we dry off and huddle under the covers on your bed for a while?” Nell Rose suggested.
“A bed sounds good to me. How about…” Julian went very still, and then he asked, “Did you hear that?”
For a moment she strained to hear sounds from afar, and just as she was about to say, “I don’t hear anything,” she did. A footstep. A creaking board. That was no deer—and the sound came from inside the house.
They stood together, slowly, as soundlessly as possible.
“Did you lock the door after you came in from checking the deer tracks?” Nell Rose whispered.
“I don’t think so,” Julian said as he stepped from the tub. Nell Rose followed, stepping onto the bath mat. Julian dried off just enough to get his jeans on, ordered her to stay put and headed for the stairs.
Stay put? Was he nuts? She dried off faster than he had and grabbed the flannel shirt Julian had set aside to put on after their bath. It was quicker than getting into her own jeans and shirt, since she only had to wear the one garment to be properly covered. She didn’t want to be entirely naked if she ran into the sheriff downstairs.
Surely that was it. The sheriff and Julian were friends. Sheriff Tielkens had probably come by to check on the unwanted houseguest and see about getting the car towed. Who else could it be? They were pretty far out in the county. Maybe around here people just walked in when they dropped by. Maybe someone had realized that Julian was not alone and had sneaked right back out again, trying to avoid embarrassment.
Wearing the warm flannel shirt that fell to midthigh, Nell Rose crept halfway down the stairs, her head craning forward so she could see what was coming. As the living room came into view she saw Julian, a fireplace poker in one hand, walking from the front door toward the kitchen. He caught sight of her standing there, made a face of displeasure—either because she’d disobeyed his order or because he’d found evidence of an intruder, since he certainly didn’t have anything else to be displeased about—and continued on.
JULIAN CURSED AS HE LOCKED the kitchen door. Maybe he’d left the front door unlocked, but he sure as hell hadn’t left the kitchen door unlocked and partially open. Someone had walked in, while he and Nell Rose had been upstairs. How long had they been here? What had they taken?
He found Nell Rose sitting on the stairs, her legs bare, the too-roomy flannel shirt pooling around her. Her eyes were wide, her expression one of caution—and even fear. He barely knew her, so why did that expression get to him? Why did it grab on to his gut and hold on?
By this afternoon the roads would be clear enough to drive upon. Sam could collect her car; he could drive her to her rental cabin and drop her off there. They’d never see each other again. That was the deal, right?
“Stay,” he said softly.
Nell Rose’s blue eyes widened, and a new emotion blossomed there. “Here?”
“If you’d like. If you’d rather have a week of peace and quiet…”
“No.” She stood slowly, bit her lower lip and then continued, “I’m not a great fan of peace and quiet.” She looked toward the kitchen. “Did you find anything?”
“Both doors were unlocked. I figure one of my neighbors decided to walk through. Maybe they thought I wasn’t at home and were looking for food or coffee, and when they heard us upstairs they made a hasty escape.”
“That’s rude,” she said in a disapproving tone of voice.
“Some of the people up here…” He left it at that.
Nell Rose continued to stand in the middle of the stairs. “You look cold.”
“I am.”
“Lock the doors and then come to bed.” She turned and walked away, her hips swaying, his plain flannel shirt the sexiest piece of clothing he had ever seen on a woman.
“Doors are locked,” he said as he followed her up the stairs.