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Grant slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to tend the fire and to check on his charge. She slept deeply, the lines of exhaustion still etched on her face. He sent up a prayer of gratitude for her safety. She said he had saved her life, but she really had saved her own. Only her dogged courage had given her the strength to make it as far as she had. She could so easily have died.
He touched her occasionally, just to reassure himself that she was real. He came to the cabin seeking answers. And Maddy dropped into his lap. What did it mean? He wasn’t much of a believer in fate, but life was funny sometimes. He’d known Maddy less than a day, but already she had a hold on his heart. Maybe because of the dramatic way they met. Maybe because she was the kind of woman he had been looking for, deep in some unacknowledged part of his psyche.
He snorted. Holy hell. He’d need a shrink if this kept up. He brushed a butterfly kiss across her lips, careful not to wake her. Whatever the reason, Maddy was his . . . at least for the next few days. What was that old saying? If you saved a life it belonged to you? He would gladly take credit for rescuing her if it meant she was tied to him in some way. He might not have all the answers yet, but he would soon.
And in the meantime, he would do his best not to take advantage of her vulnerability. She was hurting from her parents’ divorce, feeling lost and alone, and on top of that, she had survived a dangerous ordeal that could have ended her life. She was off balance, emotionally overwrought. Only the lowest kind of worm would agree to her artless invitation. Heck, by morning she would probably have changed her mind. He wondered why that thought didn’t give him the least bit of satisfaction.
* * *
Sometime before dawn the storm finally blew itself out, leaving twenty-two inches of pristine, powdery white snow. He took Van Gogh out early, using the back door, so Maddy could sleep on.
By nine-thirty he was getting a little worried. He shook her shoulder. “Maddy, honey . . . You about ready to wake up? I’ve got bacon and eggs and pancakes almost done.”
Her face scrunched up and she pulled the blankets completely over her head. “Go away.”
He grinned. Clearly his houseguest wasn’t a morning person. “That’s not what you said last night.” He chuckled, sliding his hand beneath the mound of covers to tickle her belly.
She yelped and uttered a word that was not at all ladylike. “I’m liking you less and less, Monroe.”
He waved a steaming cup of coffee near the bump that was her head. “Hot coffee, no waiting.”
She struggled to a sitting position, her hair a riot of auburn corkscrews. “Give it to me.”
He surrendered the mug without protest and watched amazed as she drained the contents in short order. “What? You have an asbestos-lined mouth?”
She flopped against the back of the sofa, nodding. “I don’t do mornings very well. Caffeine’s my salvation.”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
Suddenly she remembered to be shy with him. Her face went beet red and she flapped her hands at him. “Get lost. Scram. I look a fright.”
He threw the bedding to one side and scooped her into his lap, nuzzling the top of her head. “You’re rumpled,” he corrected. “It’s a good look on you.”
He tipped her backward over his arm and found her mouth. She tasted like coffee and cream and sweet, warm woman. He explored her mouth with his tongue, sliding one hand beneath her to trace her spine. His cock stiffened immediately, and he knew the exact moment she realized it.
She froze, panting slightly, her eyes cloudy. “You’re hard,” she muttered.
He nodded ruefully. “You seem to have that effect on me.” She wiggled her bottom and he groaned. “Easy, baby.”
She nipped his bottom lip. “Can I touch you?” she asked, her voice and face entirely serious.
“What about breakfast?” he asked weakly, struggling to survive.
She was already wriggling around to gain access to his now-constricting jeans. “It’s overrated.”
She lowered his zipper and every ounce of blood in his body rushed to his groin. Her small, talented hands slid past his boxers with startling ease. When her fingers closed around his aching cock, he shivered. She stroked him gently, murmuring words he was too far gone to understand.
When he managed once to open his eyes, he saw her staring raptly at his genitals, her eyes big and her lips wet where she had licked them. Such unabashed admiration did wonders for a man’s ego.
He groaned, barely remembering his resolve. “Enough, little witch. It’s time to eat.”
She scraped a fingernail down his shaft. “I’m ready if you are.”
He jerked her hand out of his pants. “I’m going to the kitchen,” he said through clenched teeth. “I expect you to join me there in three minutes or less.”
* * *
Maddy sighed as she made a trip down the hall to the bathroom. Just her luck. She finally decided to spice up her sex life, and she picked a man bent on protecting her from herself. It was just too depressing. But as she glanced in the mirror, she couldn’t help smiling at her reflection.
