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Beaming her gratitude, Tamara tucked her arm into Xander’s on the other side from the one holding a drooping Colin. “Will you be around for lunch?”
“Absolutely. Gran promised me a roast dinner for my first Sunday home. You should join us. There’s bound to be plenty to go around, knowing Gran.” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Bonnie and she bobbed her head in confirmation.
They found Tamara’s little hatchback in the rapidly emptying car park and Xander helped fasten Colin into his seat. “See you tomorrow.”
The young woman kissed him on the cheek. “It’s great to have you home.”
They watched her leave the car park and once her lights faded, headed out the far side, nearest home.
“It was a great evening.” Xander dragged her hand through his crooked elbow. “It is great to be home.”
“It was nice catching up with the guys from the band. I can’t remember when I last saw them.”
His grip tightened. “About four and a half years. They came up for New Years before you went to Canada. They came up the next September, but you’d already gone.”
He remembered the dates so clearly; she couldn’t help wondering if there were some significance. “That’s when Tamara would have got to know you all.”
“Yeah.”
She could see his mouth compress in the streetlights, creating pools of glimmering white in between the shadows. “You seem really close.”
He darted a quick glance at her and looked away. “Tamara’s a sweet kid and the boy is cute. She’s had a rough time, so I keep in touch.”
A tightness in her chest eased at his casual tone. It didn’t sound like he had feelings for Tamara, apart from a brotherly sympathy. Yet there was something he wasn’t saying about his relationship with her. Not that it was Bonnie’s business. “You are a softy, aren’t you?”
His grin flashed. “You caught me.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, their breath condensing in puffy clouds as they strolled along the street leading to the inn.
At the gate, he stopped, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I really am glad to be home.”
“Me too.” She was more than glad to see him, even if wondering if he’d moved on hurt.
This time he took her hand to lead her along the path, keeping slow and steady on the slippery pavement. Inside he helped her unbutton her coat after he shed his parka, hanging them on the hooks near the front door while she set the locks. “They’ll dry quickly enough overnight,” he whispered.
The place was in darkness and he put his finger over her mouth when she would have commented. His mouth lowered to hover by her ear. “Don’t disturb them. Gran will get chatty and they’ll be up half the night wanting a gossip. They can catch up tomorrow.”
Twining his fingers through hers, he led her up the carpeted stairs and along the corridor to her room. It was far too reminiscent of other times when they’d crept through the house to his bedroom. Her heart gave a little hiccup, wondering if he had some idea of picking up where they’d left off as bed buddies. He’d said the very first time, he was only interested in a relationship while it was fun. Light-hearted. Getting too intense was a downer. He preferred to keep the tragedy for his songs.
He opened the door and shepherded her into the room. She put up no resistance, curious to see what he was thinking.
Faint light from the open curtains illuminated the bed, leaving the rest of the room in shadow.
His fingers gripped her chin, tilting up her face. The callouses on his fingers rubbed against her cold skin, heat scraping it into life, flooding her throat and radiating up and down, heating her right through. “Beautiful.”
“It’s too dark to see,” she protested. She didn’t care, because his mouth brushed over hers, cool and hard, softening as one arm snaked its way around her waist and brought her against him. It didn’t have to mean anything. Nostalgia. For old times’ sake. A kiss was just a kiss.
His other hand moved to her cheek and gently pinched her lobe, tweaking the small, hooped earrings she always wore. He’d given them to her for her twenty-first birthday. Rose gold from Tiffany’s in New York.
His warmth permeated deep within her, speeding her heart and slowing down the blood flowing low in her gut. Molten honey, warming and filling and leaving an ache. He shifted, bringing her closer, aligning his hard masculinity against her softness. All her misgivings were marshmallow floats, swirling and melting in hot chocolate. Except she couldn’t have chocolate and she shouldn’t have Xander Mac.
Twisting in his hold, she froze at his muffled curse. He released her and stepped back, rubbing his hip.
“Your phone has sharp edges. Since when did you start wearing the damn thing like a chastity belt?”
Oh God.She’d nearly forgotten. Xander did that to her. Turned her brain to mush. Turned her body into… nope, not going there.
“Probably since I realised falling into bed with hot country rock stars was never going anywhere.”
