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Besides, she just remembered the last time she’d seen Louise Flanagan. She’d come into the church a few weeks back, needing someone to talk to about something stupid she’d done at Mick Winchester’s real estate office. She’d hate for anybody to find out that secret. Probably including Bob, who still didn’t know the whole story.
It wasn’t such a bad thing to have something to hold over a potential sister-in-law. Not a bad thing at all. Especially if the money ran out too quickly.
She gave him a big smile. “I can’t wait to have her over. She’s a nice girl.”
Bob’s relief at having her approval was visible. And Hester counted that as her good deed for the day.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CARO WENT A good twenty-four hours before she said another word to Mick. She had to hand it to him, he handled the silent treatment pretty well. Better than most men. He didn’t get mad or give her flowers or try to tease her into acknowledging he was in the room. Or do what her father used to do: grab her mother by the arm, drag her into the bedroom and within minutes have her howling loud enough to wake the neighbors. By the time they were done, her mother had forgotten whatever she’d been mad at him about. Until the next time.
Mick wasn’t like that, thank God. Well, since sex was the problem anyway, he couldn’t very well try tosolveit with sex. But even if it weren’t, she knew him better than that. Mick was a decent guy. Maybe too decent, dammit all, considering the way he’d refused to let them fall into a purely sexual affair.
At this point, a purely sexual affair sounded pretty good to her. At least until two weeks from now when she’d have to figure out what to do about this whole mess.
Mick did nothing to make it easier on her. He wasn’t trying to solve their situation. He was giving her time to fume, to be mad at him, to give him snotty looks and the cold shoulder. So that’s what she did. Even though she knew deep down he’d been right, it was still hard to get over that he didn’t want her enough to take a few risks. That was whatreallybugged her. Well, that and the fact that she wanted him again so badly she couldn’t sleep at night.
“Coffee,” she mumbled Wednesday morning when she stumbled out of bed at the whine of her alarm clock. She’d had yet another sleepless night, listening for the sounds of Mick prowling around the house, as he often did. She’d have loved to just veg out in front of his big-screen downstairs during the night, falling asleep to the familiar sounds of her childhood: canned sitcom laughs. But she couldn’t risk it because of her fear that she’d find him down there.
It was early, only six-fifteen and the sky was still mostly dark, not even a hint of light peeking through the partially open drapes. Not bothering with a robe, she sleepwalked out of her room, down the hall past Mick’s closed door, and downstairs into the kitchen. She flicked on one light, lifting her toes off the cold tile floor and shifting from foot to foot to try to keep them warm. The mornings were chillier now, a true sign that fall was arriving. “Definitely need coffee,” she muttered.
She measured out enough coffee foronecup and put it in the coffeemaker. “Make your own coffee, Mr. I-don’t-need-sex-like-you-mere-mortals.”
It was only when she turned toward the doorway and saw him standing there that she realized he’d heard. “Oh, crap.”
“I guess that’s better than being ignored,” he replied evenly. Then he lowered his gaze, his eyes moving over her skimpy white nightie that barely skimmed the top of her thighs and did little to conceal the tiny matching panties she wore underneath.
Caro forced herself to remain standing straight and ordered her legs not to wobble or melt into jelly even though his stare felt as intimate as a touch. And the silence was heady with the same kind of tension that had erupted between them right here in this kitchen Sunday night.
Then she made thehugemistake of looking at him in return.
Mick wore only a white towel slung around his hips. His hair was damp, a few droplets of water riding along the ropes of muscle rippling on his shoulders and chest. More drops swirled in the dark, crisp hair on his chest and glistened on those taut nipples she’d been licking Sunday night. Her gaze followed the path of one lone drop of water as it slid down the long, lean stomach, disappearing into the thin trail of dark hair that led below the low-slung edge of the towel. She knew where it led. Knew very well.
Caro gulped and closed her eyes, saying a quick silent prayer for strength.God don’t let me humiliate myself in front of him again. Don’t let me beg.
“You’re up early,” she finally said.
“I just got out of the shower and thought I’d put some coffee on,” he finally said, breaking through the heat that had erupted between them.
“I was making some.”
He glanced toward the pot. “Enough for one.”
Tilting her head back, she shook off her momentary visit to mental hornyville and gave him a haughty look. “Doing things alone seems to be the only way to take care of certainneedsaround here.”
His jaw stiffened as her jab hit home. Then he shook his head and his lips parted in a rueful smile. “Maybe I was better off with the silent treatment.”
She moved to brush past him. “Yes, you probably were.”
Before she could leave the kitchen entirely, however, he put one hand up on the wall, blocking her exit with his arm. “By the way, Iama mortal.”
It took her a second to figure out what he meant by that almost-growled statement. Then she noticed the look on his face, the way he almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. The way his towel didn’t fit quite as nice and flat as it did before. And she remembered what she’d been saying when he’d walked into the kitchen.
She drew a shaky hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. He still didn’t move his arm, that thick, strong arm that had supported her with such exquisite tenderness and raw passion Sunday night.
“Okay,” she said, her tone breathy and thin, “you’re mortal. You need sex. Just not withme.”
He slowly shook his head. “Oh, Caroline, you never learn.”
