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He had spent years renovating it. The old swimming pool, close to a hundred years old, had been remodeled to look exactly as it had when the first inhabitants of the house had lived there. He had the tennis courts restored and the vegetable and herb gardens grew as profusely as they had in years past. The scent of basil and roses mingled with lavender and vine ripened tomatoes, all of it interspersed with the tangy salt air that rode in on the waves that crashed against the black granite rocks below.
It was his dream home, and he only lacked one thing—a woman to share it with. Gina had never seen that house, the one they had lived in in Portland had been sold after her death as he had been unable to bear the grief that had come from the memories that surrounded him there.
Whether or not Sandra would be the woman to share that house with him was still an unanswered question but what if, at the end of the school year, he remained enthralled by her and she was unwilling to leave the campus?
That was a worrisome thought and no matter how much he tried to shove it aside, it stayed. It was also on Sandra’s mind. The thought of leaving the campus, of removing herself from the only thing she had ever known terrified her. Other universities had offered her scholarships but she had chosen to stay and after graduation she had received job offers elsewhere and had not wanted to take them, she had needed to be where she was.
Connor kissed her again, and it was just as sweet as the last kiss he had given her. A student on a bicycle wolf-whistled as he went past and Sandra laughed a bit self-consciously as she pulled away.
“See you tomorrow?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sandra replied.
That was just what Connor was afraid of.
**
Autumn turned to winter. Storms down from Canada, bringing gusting wind and sheets of snow that covered the campus. For the first few days the place looked like a wonderland then the snow melted or piled up on the gutters, turned dirty and black. The skeletal tree limbs were encased in crystal shards of ice that also lost their charm long before Christmas break began.
Christmas break was the reason behind the argument between Sandra and Connor, or at least that was the cause of disagreement on the top of things. Connor wanted to go home for the holidays, and for her to accompany him. Sandra had never spent Christmas away from the campus, and resisted his pleas for her to go to Maine. Even when her father announced that he had been invited to spend the holidays when an equally dry peer at some academic retreat she kept on putting up her decorations and planning dinner at her own tiny home.
Frustrated by her refusals Connor decided to go to Maine without her. He showed up on her doorstep, a long gilt wrapped package in his hands and a cap pulled down low over her face. With his heavy leather coat and gloves he looked like a modern pirate somehow swept into a snowy afternoon.
Sandra opened the door, her dark hair highlighted by the gorgeous red sweater she wore. Her blue jeans clung to her legs and the soft swell of her hips. Connor’s eyes went to the generous curves of her bosom and then up to her face. She wore a lip-gloss that matched her sweater; it accented her pale skin and the chocolate hue of her eyes. Desire pulsed into him though he tried to tamp it down.
They had not shared a bed in almost two weeks, between the hectic schedule that exams created and the argument that had come up between them sex had faltered and died. He thrust the package at her clumsily, not wanting to get into a conversation that would see them bitter and angry over the holiday.
“I thought I would bring this by for you.”
Sandra’s heart ached. She wanted to try to fix things between them. It was such a small argument and silly but, it was a harbinger of a larger issue that would arise sooner rather later and she knew it.
Connor’s attentions had grown and she had fallen completely and totally in love with him. He would leave her soon, as spring turned to summer. Only two things could happen: he would walk away and her heart would be broken or he would ask her to go with him and she would have to say no, and her heart would be broken.
It was far better to stop it now, while the pain would still be bearable. If she let him go now she could spend Christmas break dealing with that pain, learning to hide it so that when he came back she could resist him.
Not that resisting him would ever be easy. Her eyes were helplessly pulled to his body. She had the sudden yearning to taste that leather, to bend over and lick the snowflakes from his shoulder. She wanted to feel his hard thigh pressed between hers, wanted to grind her aching center down that hard muscular length until she came.
“Hello,” His voice broke her from her reverie and her face flamed.
“Sorry. I have a gift for you too, would you like to come in?”
He paused so long she was sure he was going to say no but eventually he said, “Yes,” and she opened the door wider to allow him to come in.
“It smells nice in here.”
“I’m baking,” Sandra winced at the inane statement, it was obvious that she was baking—the spicy scents hanging in the air were proof enough of that. She added, “Pie and cookies. Do you like mincemeat?”
“Not the traditional.”
Sandra laughed, her even teeth showing between her full lips. “I have never tried the traditional I am afraid. I use the jarred filling.”
“Oh what a tragedy!” Connor’s eyes danced. The anger between them had not evaporated but it had lost its strength right there as they spoke. “I have to admit, I am not fond of the whole mutton in sugary pie concept.”
“Some jarred fillings have meat but not the one I use. The meat thing always was weird for me as well.” Sandra admitted. “That pie is ready for cutting and I just made coffee.”
Connor did not need a second invitation; he followed her to the kitchen. That she had been busy was clear—pots soaked in the sink, bowls still containing the ends of cookie mix, and pie fillings were neatly stacked upon the counter. The strong smell of coffee hung over the air, making him sniff appreciatively.
Sandra sat him down at the table, poured him a cup, cut him a generous wedge of pie, and then joined him with her own, saying, “I hope you will excuse the mess.”
