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Chapter Six
Never seek or avoid; take what comes.
Swami Vivekananda
Melinda was warm. Sleepy, languid, boneless, and warm. Luxuriously, she stretched both arms free of the stack of blankets that shielded her and her eyes flew open.
“Whoo,” she breathed aloud.
Oh. That’s right. She lay on a futon in an igloo of blankets that insulated her against the frigid temperatures around her. And the giant man with whom she had recently been indecently intimate lay beside her.
“‘Whoo?’” He grinned in the cold light.
Melinda giggled and wrapped a silvery-gray throw more tightly around her shoulders. “Yes, whoo. This room is so much warmer than the bedroom! But it’s still winter and there’s still only the fireplace, and I’m still naked, so whoo.”
She cuddled into the shelter of his limbs. “Thanks for helping me get warm last night.”
“Gorgeous, it was my pleasure,” Grant said. He wound an arm across her waist and trailed his fingers down her back. Melinda closed her eyes, relishing his touch.
“What time is it?” she asked, afloat in her moment.
“Can’t be more than 6:30,” he said, a scant inch from her face.
“Early.” She felt his lips at her ear. “My clothes!” She’d have to risk frostbite in order to dress. Grant chuckled and pulled back.
“Don’t give them a second thought.” Grant relinquished his blankets, and Melinda allowed her eyes to feast on his naked form as he stood and stretched. Such a bull. With those ridiculous back and chest muscles he was definitely a bull. But those arms and that scruffy hair, those were all bear. She was back to square one.
“Thanks. Don’t freeze,” she said, her gaze mid-thigh.
“Thanks for your concern,” he said wryly and she jerked her eyes to his. Busted. “I’ll get you something to wear,” he said, unperturbed by her assessment of him.
She thanked him with a small smile and snuggled further into the blanket. Her back was comfortable; it was time to turn and heat her front. The fire had died but the coals gave off enough heat to warm her exposed face and fingertips, and she closed her eyes.
This is what he’s been enjoying by sticking me in the bedroom!
The night before she’d been on the couch, she admitted, but that was with a head injury. No one on bed rest could fully appreciate their surroundings.
Grant returned with her jeans, another of Paul’s shirts, one of Paul’s sweaters, a pair of her socks, her bra, and her own jacket and hat.
“I couldn’t find any panties,” he said, eyebrows raised in a poor show of innocence. “So I figured you could just go without.”
“Pervert.” She laughed.
“Hey, who tied up whom last night?” He dropped the clothes on the futon and raised upturned palms.
“Hmm?” she asked with her eyes on his flexed biceps.
“Eyes up here, Gorgeous.”
Crap, he was on to her.
“I did what I had to in order to avoid sleeping in the icebox again,” Melinda said primly. “It’s not my fault if you enjoyed it.” She grabbed the clothes and dressed, resentful of the cold fabric kissing her skin instead of Grant. After a minute she turned to find his eyes on her. She laughed.
“What is this, a reverse peep show?” She pulled Paul’s shirt over her head, completing the performance.
“I take what I can get,” he answered, straight-faced.
“Well then. Now it’s my turn to watch.” She turned to face him where he stood wafting testosterone in the mountain air. “And go slow.”
