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ONE
The blizzard raged.
A curtain of heavy white fluff poured from the skies, blanketing the ground and laying an enchanting veil of wonder over the land. The heavy, wet snow was thicker than it had been when Lyrica arrived at Kyleene Brock’s house. Now, the silent icy flakes were twirling and dancing in the heavy winds, creating a wondrous ballet of nature at its most beautiful.
And at its most dangerous.
Lying on the couch, her head propped against the thick pillowed armrest, she ignored the fact that the black chiffon and embroidered silk gown fell back to her thighs and that her robe had worked open from the loose knot she’d tied it closed with.
Kye’s brother, Graham, wasn’t here, she reminded herself. That was how she’d ended up stuck here with Kye after they had realized how heavy the snow was falling. Her friend hated staying alone. The house was too big and too lonely when it was just her.
Kye had acted as though something was bothering her, too, something she may have wanted to talk about. Not that she’d gotten around to talking about it. The minute the electricity had gone out and the other girl had realized they were stuck there for the night, she’d become almost angry, or worried about something. Something she had refused to discuss.
Pushing aside the thought, Lyrica concentrated on the scene outside instead.
The winds howled and swirled through the naked branches of the trees, whipping the thick flakes into masses of heavy drifts. The sight of it was magnificent, majestic. Mother Nature was throwing a glittering, pure white cape over the land outside and she was doing it with style.
Had Lyrica been at her mother’s inn, or the small apartment she rented in Somerset, the show wouldn’t have been quite so beautiful.
So romantic.
It was a night meant to be shared with someone other than a friend. A night to be sheltered in strong arms rather than reclining alone before the fire.
Lifting one arm over her head, she pulled at the waves of her hair absently, twirling them around her finger, tugging at them as she watched the snow fall and felt the bittersweet regret she felt each time she came to the Brock home.
When she’d heard Graham had returned the summer before, she’d been certain she would have a chance to . . . what? A chance at his heart? A chance to be held in his arms, to feel his kiss?
A chance to be his next flavor of the month?
No doubt, that was all she would have had a chance at. And despite the fact that she knew it, still he held her spellbound. No matter how hard she looked, no other man measured up to him, and no other man—or woman—could steal her attention from him.
She missed him.
He seemed to be absent from home more often than not in the past months. His current little love bunny, damned if she could even remember this one’s name, lived just outside Louisville. Graham drove out to see her often enough that Kye had begun worrying if Graham was more serious about her than he let on.
Lyrica did more than worry.
She often tormented herself with the fear that he was falling in love with the cool, sophisticated blonde.
She hated him for the very fact that this woman had lasted longer than the others.
She often hated him for the fascination she didn’t want to have for him.
A man hadn’t played into her plans for the future until she’d met Graham Brock. Until she’d stared into his golden brown eyes, like dark amber, and become trapped within a world of fantasy, hunger, and need that she had yet to escape from.
What would she do if he married the other woman?
Could she bear to see him marry?
It would break her heart.
The sound of the living room doors opening once again pulled her from her thoughts as a drowsy smile curved her lips.
“You know, Kye,” she commented as she heard the doors close again before several steps were taken into the room, “maybe we should have just called the guys and told them we were scared here alone after all. I bet they would have been right here on those snowmobiles and then we could have just gone to the apartment.”
Her brother and cousins had made the offer to come out for her hours before, and she knew they would have enjoyed the chance to use the snowmobiles they rarely got to ride anymore.
“That really wouldn’t have worked for me.”
Eyes wide, her heart suddenly racing in her chest, Lyrica found herself staring into Graham Brock’s dark amber gaze as he stood behind the couch.
