AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Look at her. Out of control hair, no makeup, pale skin, negligible curves . . . and Grant Monroe wanted her. True, he hadn’t done anything about it yet, but a man’s body didn’t lie. That impressive erection was because of her.
She washed up rapidly, pausing long enough to use a little of her lip gloss. Some war paint never hurt. When she entered the kitchen, Grant was at the stove, his posture unnaturally rigid.
Guilt pinched her. She really needed to back off. She didn’t mind making the first move with a guy, but she had invaded Grant’s home, and they were both trapped for the duration. He might even have a significant other tucked away somewhere. That thought made her stomach churn.
She had to know. “Do you have a girlfriend?” She blurted it out with an appalling lack of finesse.
He turned around, holding a plate of pancakes and eggs. His brows were drawn together in a frown. “No, of course not. Did you really think I’d be fooling around with you if I were otherwise committed?”
She shrugged. “Men do.”
“Well, not this man.” He set down the plate with a thunk and returned for the bacon. “If that’s the kind of men you’ve been going out with, it’s no wonder you’re a little cynical about love.”
“You said yourself that you’ve never been in love.”
His face got a funny look. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t been with women I respected and admired.”
“Oh.” She fell silent, suddenly envisioning a stream of beautiful, sexy women entertaining Grant Monroe. They probably all had big boobs . . . like the one in the picture. Her confidence slipped a notch.
He joined her at the table and they ate mostly in silence. At one point she leaned down to give Van Gogh a chunk of pancake, and she groaned as her muscles protested from the abuse she’d given them the day before.
Grant’s eyes sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sore, that’s all.”
“There’s ibuprofen in the cabinet to the left of the stove.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I thought you might offer to give me a massage. Strictly medicinal, of course.”
He carried their dishes to the sink. “I’m not falling for that. My mother warned me about women like you.”
She grinned, enjoying his dry humor. “Your loss.”
He glanced out the window. The sun was out and the snow was so bright it hurt to look at it. “I need to chop some wood. Can you entertain yourself for awhile?”
“I think I can manage. I might alphabetize your spices.”
“Won’t take long. I think it’s pretty much salt, cinnamon and pepper.”
“Spoken like a typical bachelor.”
* * *
When Grant started chopping wood, he realized he was smiling. Maddy’s sass and wit made him laugh. She had bounced back incredibly quickly from a bad experience. Her sexuality was an innate part of her personality, and he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t be able to resist her for long, nor did he want to. Any man of his acquaintance would jump at the chance to have a few days of uncomplicated sex with a fascinating woman.
But he found himself wanting to prove to her that love did exist. Which was really pretty damn funny since he had no personal knowledge of such emotion. Maddy was the kind of woman who deserved to be loved. She was smart and strong and full of life. If she hadn’t found love, it wasn’t her fault. The men in her orbit must be idiots, or at the very least blind.
The back door opened and his heartbeat jumped, but it was only Van Gogh lumbering out to see him. Maddy must have taken pity on the dog’s whining. Van Gogh loved to be outside. But the deep snow was giving her problems.
Grant used his arm to clear the drifts off the top of the picnic table and gently lifted the dog so she could bask in the sun. The temperature was in the midtwenties, but there was no wind, and the sun felt remarkably warm.
He returned to splitting logs, relishing the strain on his muscles and the sheer physical labor. In forty-five minutes he had more than enough wood, but he kept working. He was sweating now, so he shrugged out of his heavy coat. His plan was to make himself tired enough to forget how horny he was.
He and Maddy might end up in bed, but he wanted to make sure she was recovered, both physically and emotionally, from her frightening experience . . . And in all fairness, he needed time to explain his own situation. He had a few secrets of his own to confess.
* * *
When he returned to the house, everything was quiet. He found Maddy in the living room, but she never even looked up when he entered. She was sitting cross-legged in one of the big armchairs, working on her laptop. He made a fair amount of noise, carrying in wood and adding logs to the fire, but her eyes remained glued to the small computer screen.
