"Here Comes Trouble" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kauffman Donna)

Chapter 6

So, clearly he was much further out of practice than he thought where the opposite sex was concerned. He’d been fairly certain at dinner last night, and pretty much a hundred percent certain this morning, that he wasn’t the only one having wayward thoughts of a sexual nature. So much so, that, what the hell, he’d decided to act on them, see what happened.

Brett hadn’t exactly thought things through much beyond that, but then, he’d sort of thought the direction would more or less establish itself. And he’d work from there.

He should have known that, where Kirby was involved, nothing was going to be simple. Had he admitted as much to himself, perhaps he’d have rightly talked himself out of making any moves whatsoever.

He really did have some important things to consider. And she was definitely clouding that process. It would be convenient to tell himself that this was all about cloud clearing, and using seduction as a means of regaining focus. Except he’d never had any problem focusing before. He was very, very good at that. Hence his current bank balance.

And he’d had his hands on her now…and his mouth. Well, on her neck anyway. Which had proven to be far more lethal than one would suspect. All warm and sweet and soft…with that rabbit punch of a pulse quivering against his lips. Told him a lot. A lot more than she was telling him, anyway.

At the moment, she was stalling. And he was letting her. Because he meant what he said about not forcing her. But…he wasn’t exactly letting her go, either. Was he?

“You come tooling up on this huge Harley, all dressed in leather. But you wear cashmere and keep your hands in better shape than most women I know. And every guy I know. So yes, you’re a bit of a paradox.”

“Well, the leather keeps the bugs from stinging and the dust from choking. Not to mention providing a far more decent barrier to road rash than the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing underneath them. As for the hands…” He paused, and used those hands to slide up her waist, then cup her elbows, and urge her arms up around his neck. “Occupational hazard.”

She frowned a little. But didn’t move her hands from his shoulders when he circled his back around her waist. As foreplay went, it was admittedly not what he’d been picturing…but he wasn’t any less turned on because of it.

“So, what, you’re a hand model? Or all model? I mean, you certainly could be. Would explain the tan, the body, the lack of modesty.”

When he spluttered a laugh at that last part, she instantly blushed.

“I said all of that. Out loud. Right out loud.”

“You did. And I’m flattered. I think. Although I’m far more modest than the amount of clothing I’ve worn the past twenty-four hours would imply. I claim special circumstances. I also claim to not mind it as much as I’d thought I would, had someone told me I’d be spending most of my time half dressed around a woman I’d just met and found intriguing.”

She snorted.

“Did you really just…snort at that? I was sincere.”

“You certainly always sound sincere. I’ll give you that. In fact, that’s another part of the enigma.”

“Meaning…what, exactly?”

“Meaning for a dusty, leathered-up biker dude, you’re actually rather soft spoken and polite.”

“When you’d have expected what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I guess a fill-in-the-blank cliché. I don’t actually know any bikers.”

“Which clichés would those be?”

“Tall, dark, and Clint Eastwood-like silent. Or brash, cocky, maybe a little crude.”

He smiled a little. He did that a lot around her. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, but you didn’t. I think…I don’t know. Like you said, intriguing.” She paused. “Wait, what did you mean about me intriguing you? What about me could possibly be intriguing?” She lifted a hand. “Wait, that sounded like digging for compliments. I was actually just curious.”

“You’re not what I expected, either.”

“You have certain expectations of your innkeepers?”

He felt her hands tense a little, where they still rested on his shoulders. She wasn’t holding on, much less coming on-more like holding in place. In fact, she seemed so caught up in what they were saying, he wasn’t sure if she realized she’d been toying with the ends of his hair. Normally he’d say that was a direct type of flirtation. She seemed more…distracted. Until that last comment. “Why did you tense up just then?”

She looked him square in the eye. “You’re not a serial killer, right? Because that would be my karma. I don’t even know what I did to earn a snow-less winter, much less a complete jackass of an ex, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything in this life to warrant it ending with me being hacked up into little pieces. So just tell me you’re not in the habit of going from little town to little town, seducing poor, unsuspecting innkeepers, then stashing them in the basement freezer.”

“Have you ever considered becoming a writer? Because that’s quite an imagination-”

“So, that would be a no? You’re evading, actually.”

“Well, if I was a killer, I’d just smile and tell you whatever you wanted to hear anyway, so you’re not going to automatically believe everything I say.”

“True. I faxed your license to the sheriff’s office.”

He couldn’t help it. That made him pause. And he was pretty sure his smile had faded along with it.

“Uh oh,” she said, and started to slide her hands from his shoulders.

He quickly covered them, but gently. “No, nothing like that. I just-you can ask your local sheriff everything he discovered about me. That’s not it.”

“You say that like there’s a long list of things to be discovered. Anything you want to confess up front?”

“I’ve never killed anything. Or anyone,” he added.

“Okay. Felonies? Pending charges? Assault? Robbery?”

“Wow. Either I made a really wrong impression on the bike, or you really have lousy taste in men. What, exactly, did this jackass of an ex do to you, anyway?”

“Did I say that out loud, too?” She sighed and shook her head when he nodded. “See, I don’t have taste in men.”

His brows lifted. “Really? Because I could have sworn-”

“No! I mean, I didn’t mean it that way. I have interest in men, but…never mind. Let’s just say that I haven’t had to worry about my taste levels or lack thereof. Lately.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?” She ducked her head and sighed. “Clearly, this is a good thing. Accuse you of being a crude, serial-killing, bank-robbing biker with a manicure, and, just in case you’re the type that is attracted to psycho basket cases, make sure you add lonely and pathetic to the list.” Kirby did remove her hands this time, and then she stepped back before he could keep her close. “Why don’t I stop while I’m already so far behind there’s no recovery? Because, given another few minutes, I wouldn’t be the least surprised to discover I could actually make it worse.”

He laughed. Which clearly surprised her. It even surprised him a little. Because psycho basket cases most definitely were not high on his list of women he wanted to go to bed with. No amount of good sex was worth that. Which went a long way toward explaining his prolonged celibacy of late. Not a lot of sane and normal in the casino life.

Maybe not in Pennydash, Vermont, either, as it turned out.

“Not that I’m not relieved you have a sense of humor, but why the laugh?”

“When I said you weren’t what I expected, either, it wasn’t as an inn owner. I was going based on appearance. Like you were with me. You’re tall and graceful, with such quiet features and serious eyes. Seeing you, without ever meeting you, I’d have pegged you as somewhat culturally elevated, perhaps even a bit snooty, definitely over-educated, traditional, conservative…”

The corner of her mouth kicked up in a dry smile. “Ruined that perception pretty good, huh?”

“Mostly. Maybe. But that’s what drew me.” He reached for her again. “Draws me.”

She moved back a half step. “I’m really not a psycho basket case. Over the past two years, I’ve been more sane than I’ve probably ever been, well certainly given the ten or so odd years that came before it. Speaking of which, I’m a lot older than you.”

“Okay.”

She cocked her head. “Okay?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure I get the significance. Unless it bothers you. People are people.”

“Age is just a number?”

“No, not at all. The number of years a person has put in should impact them in some way. Hopefully with increased wisdom, but not always. With life experience, to be sure. Sometimes where they are on their path doesn’t match with where I am on mine, but otherwise, people are just people. I don’t limit my exposure to them, or my attraction to them, based on how old they are. Or aren’t.”

She continued to look at him.

“Bad answer? It’s the truth.”

“No, not at all. Possibly the best answer.”

“What then? Are you hung up on my being younger?”

She shook her head. “Not as it pertains to me, anyway. I can say I wish I’d had your more advanced worldview when I was your age. Would have saved me a ton of grief and loads of unfulfilled expectations.”

“The jackass ex again?”

She shook her head. “No, I was talking about me. Jackasses are jackasses. It’s not so much their fault when they do nothing to pretend otherwise. Then it’s on the one who keeps thinking they’ll change. It was that age-equals-wisdom thing that hung me up. Well, that and a pretty good case of insecurity and inexperience. Also on me.”

“Clearly you figured it out at some point. How long ago did your epiphany come about?”

“Oh, about two seconds after I walked in on a private meeting he was having with his assistant-you know, one of those clothing optional meetings?-whereby he was telling her that of course there was nothing to worry about. I was too busy running around doing everything he told me to do to keep his fabulous resort running like a well-oiled machine while desperately trying to win his respect and continued support to ever imagine that he would be unfaithful to me.

“Or maybe it was a second or two after that, when he laughingly responded to her question regarding his ever marrying me by stating that why would he ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him? He had someone he could count on to be loyal, hardworking, and give him the very best both at work and at home, all for a less than commanding salary. He’d have to be an idiot to marry me.” She tapped her chin. “Yep, it was pretty much right about then. Of course, the kicker is he was completely right.”

Brett grinned. “So…maybe the real question is whether or not you’ve committed any felonies that I should know about.”

She blinked and looked rather mortified by her outburst for a second, and then grinned right back at him. “Fortunately I managed not to ruin the next fifteen to twenty years of my life, no. I’d already given him ten.” She lifted a hand. “And please, I am not asking for or expecting pity. You can’t be surprised when folks treat you like a doormat when you never stop them from walking all over you. Some of us just have a much steeper learning curve than others. Walking in on that meeting was the best wake-up call of my life.” She smiled even more broadly then and he loved how it animated those eyes of hers. “See? Totally not a psycho basket case.”

Brett laughed, and so did she. “See, that’s what intrigues me.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but clarify?”

“You’re a straight shooter. You don’t mind speaking your mind, and you seem to be pretty self-aware, although you’re almost too willing to cast yourself in an unflattering light.”

“Hey, if the light shines dimly…” Kirby shrugged.

“We’re all human. But you picked up the pieces and turned around and took your own dreams and did something about them. You’re constructive, not destructive. You learned from past mistakes, and then you moved on. You’re not a wallower.”

“Wow. All that from a few babbled stories and a total lack of finesse where half-naked men come into play?”

He tightened his hands on her hips and pulled her a fraction closer. “I’m pretty good at reading people. Did I get any of that wrong?” He ducked his chin to keep her eyes on his. “Be honest. It’s okay to toot your own horn, too, you know.”

“I’d like to think your assessment is right. We’ll see how things play out after this winter is over and whether or not I have to yet again find a new dream to build on.”

“Fair enough.”

“What about you? These decisions you have to make.”

“See, this is where I envy you. You knew what your dream was all along. I know I want to finally have mine come true, and that I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen…but I’m not sure what shape the dream is going to take.” He laughed again. “So, I guess you’re the psycho basket case with a jackass ex and I’m the aimless drifter with no idea who he wants to be when he grows up. Perfect match, right?”

“We’re all human,” she said, tossing his words back at him.

“So then,” he said, feeling rather ridiculously content, which didn’t bear examining given how newly acquainted they were…but rather than turn him off by her sudden revelation of a painful past, it had only served to further underscore his attraction. She was real. That was the bottom of it, he realized. She was honest, direct, and not particularly worried about his opinion. She told it like it was, even if that didn’t paint her in the best of lights. He doubted, given the look on her face immediately after the fact, that she shared that story often, if ever. He liked it-a lot-that she’d shared it with him. Made him feel like, perhaps, she’d take him for who he was, too…even when his less-than-normal background finally came out. Which, given the faxed license, he figured was more likely to happen now.

“So…?” she urged.

He snapped back to the moment and nestled her more fully in his arms. “So, I guess…we’ve established age isn’t an issue. And that I’m not a serial killer or a crude biker. You’re not dancing ballet at the Met or hosting snooty cocktail parties in the Hamptons. You don’t take shit from cheating jackasses. And neither of us should probably ever own a kitten. Any other obstacles?”

She laughed. “To?”

“Me finishing what I started before your neighbor interrupted?”

“Other than wondering why in the hell you’d still want to? No, absolutely not.”

“Human is good, Kirby. I’m not interested in plastic perfection, or any attempt at pretending to be it, much less achieving it.”

“Well, there’s a huge relief.” She grinned and he really did love what it did to her eyes. That was going to take a long time to get old.

“What else?” he asked when he sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. When she didn’t immediately respond, he knew he was right. “Come on, no point in holding back now.”

“Right,” she said dryly. “However good or bad that is.” She lifted her hand from his shoulder before he could say it. “Human is good, I know. But there are limits. I was just thinking that one of the deals I made with myself when I came here was that I was going to make it on my own first before contemplating whether or not I wanted to get into another long-term relationship. It seemed like the healthy thing to do. But in the meantime, I wasn’t planning on being a monk, either.”

“Okay.”

“So, I have been a monk, but only because time and opportunity for the no-strings, weekend flings I’d imagined myself having weren’t exactly presenting themselves.”

She truly had no idea just how charming and adorable her complete and utter candor really was to him. “And now?”

“Well, now it seems like, possibly, maybe, that little problem might resolve itself. For which I’m very happy, by the way. Because you…well, come on. I couldn’t have dreamed you. Only…you know, now I’m worrying that it might turn out to be a little harder for me to reconcile myself with that after-the-fling part than I thought it would.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you about that part. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it, either. You see, I didn’t even have a game plan in place to start with. Short-or long-term. So you’re one up on me once again. But I do see one potential problem with your plan.”

“Which is?”

He brushed her hair from her face and tipped her chin up. “Am I only allowed to stay for the weekend?”

Her pupils punched wide with desire, and her color rose again to those pretty porcelain features of hers. He wanted to see what other parts of her body he could make blush.

“I-I don’t know. I mean, no. You can stay as long as you want. I just meant, you’re…temporary. That’s all. This…whatever we do, can only be temporary.”

He crowded her back against the wall by the kitchen cupboards. “We have no idea what this is, or could be. We haven’t even started yet.”

If it was possible, her pupils expanded further, until they almost swallowed those soft gray irises whole. He felt her fingers flex on his shoulders and saw her throat work.

“Are you opposed to starting something that has no definite path?” he asked. “Or an end date already all planned out?”

“No.”

He cocked his head, surprised by the swift certainty of her response.

“Commitment issues?” he asked. “Understandable, after all, given everything.”

“No. Just the continued desire to be more self-aware, make better choices for myself. And I don’t know if I’m there yet.”

“Fair enough. But how will you know when you are, if you don’t try?”

“True, I suppose. You?” she countered.

“Commitment issues, no. I’m very loyal to those who matter to me.”

“And are there many? Who matter, I mean?”

“I don’t know that it’s a long list, but there are some very definite names on it. Yes. You?”

“No issues with loyalty. Although what and whom I choose to be loyal to…that has changed.”

That intrigued him, too. He wanted to know the rest of her story. He wanted to know what led a woman, he was guessing in her late thirties, to launch an enterprise in a small mountain town she had no prior connection to, far away from her original home, all by herself. One that would require a huge personal commitment, given she would literally live and breathe her work. And seemed content with that choice. And it wasn’t just about location, or wanting to run a place her way. Or even starting over after a devastating breakup. There was more to it; he felt it clear down to his bones. And he was suddenly dying to know the rest.

One thing he did know was that Kirby Farrell did not lack the commitment gene. Her inn was testament to that. He was more curious to know who would make the loyalty cut in her life these days. And what it would take to get that close to her.

“Understandable, also,” he said, “though I think we all make those adjustments as life progresses, for a variety of reasons.”

“Is that what happened with you? These choices you need to make, the things you need to ponder…commitments changing?”

“As it happens, yes.”

“And figuring it out meant a cross-country trek?”

“The journey was part of it. It wasn’t just a flight. Well, it might have started out as one, but it became part of the process.”

“So, is this just another layover, or a turnaround point?”

“I wanted it to be the latter. Felt it, when I stopped.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know. More to figure out, I guess. What about you? Is this a beginning point, or an end point?”

“This. You mean the inn? An end point. At least that was the plan. We’ll see how that pans out. It’s funny, I guess…I came across country, too. But I knew where I was heading. And why.”

“I thought I knew. Why I was leaving, anyway, if not exactly where I was heading,” he said. “Now I’m wondering if I’ve just been fleeing…or maybe hiding, the whole time.”

She looked curious, but, to her credit and his relief, she didn’t push. There was time, yet. Or would be, if it was still important to either of them. Later.

After.

The silence expanded, but it wasn’t an uneasy one.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That this might have been easier without all the talking first.”

She smiled a little, but there was a hint of disappointment in it. “Men hate foreplay.”

“Some men, maybe. Not me. But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it was tedious.”

“Then what?”

“Personal. Makes it more personal.”

“Exactly what I was getting at. Maybe we both wanted something more nameless/faceless.”

“I don’t know what I wanted. I didn’t even know I was going to want at all.”

She smiled briefly. “You mean you haven’t left a string of broken hearts across the country?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t disturbed-or severed-a single body part, I swear.”

“What about back in Vegas? Is there someone there who is waiting to hear about your commitment decisions?”

“If you mean a wife or significant other, no. It’s not about that.” He watched her face. “Would it matter if it did?

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I was raised to play well with others and share my toys, but some things aren’t meant to be shared. I didn’t like it when it happened to me and I sure as hell wouldn’t be a part of doing that to someone else.”

“So, then I suppose I don’t have to worry that someone other than Clemson is going to come banging on your door, asking nosy questions?”

“Oh, there might be all kinds of nosy questions.” She watched him this time. “If that’s a problem, I understand.”

“I’m not the one who lives here, who’ll keep on living here. It doesn’t bother you?”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s not the kind of thing I would let bother me, no. I’m a grown woman and can do what I want with my private life. If they have issues with my business or how I run it, that’s one thing, but about me personally?” Again, she lifted a shoulder.

His smile widened a little. He noticed she’d said “would let bother,” indicating she hadn’t actually had any experience with small towns and even smaller minds. “How much do you know about small towns?”

“Enough,” she said. “Ski resort towns are very small towns.”

“Although a bit more cosmopolitan than, say, a small town in Iowa, given the international tourist aspect, don’t you think?”

“Possibly, but the resort itself is like a village within a small town, and there are no secrets, and gossip is second only to the skiing and golfing as a favorite form of entertainment. I lived under an enormous amount of scrutiny when I was working for Patrick. I was twelve years his junior, and despite being more than qualified for the job, both by my upbringing and by my college education, absolutely everyone naturally assumed I’d slept my way into the job as resort manager at such a young age. The irony was that Patrick was considered quite the prodigy himself for being an internationally renowned resort owner at such a young age…but no one thought he’d gotten there by anything other than hard work.”

“Or the hard work of others, from the sound of it.”

She shrugged off the intended compliment. “Bottom line is, if you’re asking if I’d be bothered by what the locals here might think of how I conduct my personal life, then the answer is no. Both because it truly isn’t their business and therefore their opinion is none of my concern, but also because I don’t plan on conducting myself in any manner that could be considered questionable, no matter how conservative and small the mind. I’m a grown, single woman and can see or sleep with whomever I wish. It’s not like I plan to jump your bones in the middle of the town square.”

“Does Pennydash have a town square?”

“Are we in New England?” she teased. “Yes, it does. Actually, it’s quite charming and one of the draws for both the resort planners and me. It had fallen on some pretty hard times since the town’s inception a hundred years ago, but the resort is bringing a rejuvenation to the shops and empty properties. A few good winters and I think it will turn into something as special as the western resort towns, but with its own distinct East Coast feel. Which I think it is a good thing, despite my western background.”

“Actually, I think it sounds pretty nice. I have a thing for town square architecture and development.”

She looked surprised. “You do?”

“It’s partly why I turned up the drive to your place. I liked the look of the old structure. We don’t have this kind of architecture out west and I thought it was both charming and interesting.”

“Hunh.”

He chuckled. “Still an enigma?”

“More all the time, it seems.”

He smiled, but didn’t ask if that was a good or a bad thing.

“What about you? You sounded like you had small town experience. Did you live somewhere else before Vegas?”

His laugh was dry, short. “Oh, don’t be fooled. Vegas is the smallest of small towns. Especially if you’ve lived there your whole life.”

“Have you?”

“Until recently, yes.”

“Oh. I thought you were still a resident. Where did you move away to?”

He nodded in the general direction of the front of the house. “That bike in your driveway.”

“Ah,” she said again. “The running away that became a journey.”

Her hands were still on his bare shoulders, and his body was painfully aware of just how close she was, and how badly he wished there was a whole lot more contact points between them than his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders. And he let himself get caught up in that for a moment, so she caught him off guard. It was the only reason he could think why he answered her so openly.

“You paused, a moment ago. When I said I’d sent your license to the sheriff’s office. I do that as a precaution. One of the good things about small towns is we all look out for one another, but I’m a lone woman running a business and times aren’t exactly flush, so while I am appreciative of the business, I’m also careful. No insult intended.”

“None taken.”

“So…why the pause? We’ve established you haven’t hacked anybody up recently, and there aren’t any angry exes chasing you-” She paused, and looked at him.

“What?”

“You just did it again.”

“Did what?”

“Paused.”

“I wasn’t talking.”

“Your body, something. You stilled, then. You sure there’s not someone in Vegas waiting for you to decide if you’re coming back?”

“I didn’t say there wasn’t anybody waiting, just that it wasn’t a woman. Or significant other. There are a few other folks waiting.”

“The ones on that list?”

“Them. And a few others.”

Now she paused. Then she said, “You’re right.”

“About?”

“Knowing too much. Maybe we should have skipped right past it. Just enjoyed the moment.”

“Maybe.”

She let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Although, in retrospect, I don’t know why I thought I’d be any good at this.”

“This?”

She played her fingertips along his shoulders. “This.”

He swore his entire body vibrated. They might be having a seemingly calm, casual conversation. But there was nothing remotely casual about what her touch did to his body. “No complaints from me.”

She laughed. “Except all the talking.”

“You’re not doing all the talking.”

“True.”

“So, back to the question. What, exactly, don’t you think you’re good at?”

“Spontaneous, casual sex.”

The directness caught him off guard, though why, he had no idea. She certainly hadn’t played coy up till now. Maybe it was hearing her acknowledge, out loud, that she knew where this was heading, expecting it to, in fact, that jacked his body-and his mind-to an instant fever pitch.

“You look disbelieving, but you don’t know. I mean, we’re standing here, you half naked, us touching each other, chemistry off the charts, at least from where I’m standing. And for the past fifteen minutes, all we’ve done is talk.”

He didn’t tell her that the disbelief wasn’t about her supposed lack of seduction skills. She had him right where she wanted him. If where she wanted him was all the way naked and buried deep inside of her, anyway. “The most direct things come out of that oh-so-classically shaped mouth.”

“I learned the hard way to just say what you mean and state what it is you want. I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I’d stood up for myself as fiercely as I stood up for my job.”

“Direct has its virtues, most definitely. It’s a large part of why I’m standing here, half naked, with my hands all over you.”

Her lips quirked then and the most mischievous, tantalizing light kindled to life in those heretofore soft gray eyes. “Not exactly all over.”

His grin was slow, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching what it did to her expression. “Just wait.”

“I think I’ve been very patient.”

“With me?”

“With life.”

“So, what, you’ve been waiting for someone to come along and seduce you?”

“The lack of snow has thinned the herd a bit.”

It shouldn’t bother him, her talking about herds. Herds consisting of other men. Standing where he was standing, touching what he was touching. And it didn’t. Not specifically. As long as there weren’t any currently waiting in line for their turn, what did he care?

More than he should, was the answer. At least if the way his hands reflexively tightened on her hips meant anything. Which was ridiculous. Not to mention foolish.

“And then I come along.”

Now her fingers tightened a little, pressing her blunt nails into his shoulders. “That you did.”

“And, prior to that, you’d decided that spontaneous sex would be the rule, not the exception, even if it meant accepting the advances of one of your guests.”

“Well, given the thin herd and all,” she said wryly. “Sometimes, rules have to be adjusted.”

“So…where’s the glitch?”

“Well, we’re not having sex, for one thing. And at this point, even if you do get me naked on any of the beds in this establishment, we can’t exactly call it spontaneous.”

“And this would be a deal breaker? I’m confused.”

“No. But…clearly, I’m not good at it. Talking about it. Thinking about it. Wanting to have it. All those things I obviously excel at.”

His lips curved. “Thinking about it,” he repeated. “With me?”

“Endlessly.”

His body leapt. He wanted to roar. “See? You blush one second, and then say the damndest things the next.”

“Talking about it. Check.”

“You know,” he said, slowly backing her up against the cabinet. “You’re not the only one stalling. With the talking.”

“Stalling. Is that what we’re doing? Or trying to talk ourselves out of it?”

He pressed his hips a little closer. “I’m not interested in stopping.”

“So…why the stall? I know why I’m doing it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m all talk, scared a little more about the action. This kind of action. Okay, maybe more than a little.”

“Why?”

“The after-the-action part. Like I said. You?”

“I wanted it to be spontaneous sex. Maybe lose myself in the physical, dodge the mental for a little bit. I don’t know. We’re both consenting adults, so what’s the problem, right?”

“Exactly. So…?”

“So…I don’t do spontaneous, either. Apparently.”

“Which leaves us where? Exactly?”

He grinned and reached up to touch her face. It was so smoothly defined, so elegantly shaped. He touched her bottom lip, felt her sigh more than heard it. “Overcoming our fears?”

“Bold plan.”

“Wouldn’t be the first one I’ve made.”

“Success rate?”

“Enough to be wary, but relatively confident.”

“Are you always wary?”

“Depends on the stakes.”

“And these?”

“Higher than I thought they’d be.”

Kirby’s eyebrows lifted. “Now who’s being direct?”

“Bold plans sometimes require bold moves.”

“Somehow, despite the quiet demeanor, I’m not getting much of a shy or retiring vibe from you.”

“I’m more of both than you might think. Certainly than most people think.”

“And why is that?”

Brett didn’t answer right away. Wasn’t sure how to answer. He had no problem telling her who he was, what he did, what he’d come from, why he was confused about whether to go back. In fact, he’d bet against the house that her responses would be open, honest, insightful, and without an ulterior agenda. Maybe he shouldn’t be trying to get her into bed so much as fixing her a cup of coffee and inviting her to sit a spell. He wondered if sleeping with her would change that ulterior agenda thing.

On the one hand, it was a good bet to take. What he’d learned of Kirby Farrell so far didn’t lead him to believe she was ever anything but open and honest. Maybe to a fault, but it was refreshing enough that he found it more flattering than flaw.

On the other hand, once she knew more, that would influence her. It always did. She was direct, but some things were hard not to judge or be influenced by.

“I’m going to ask you something,” he said. “Something I really don’t have a right to ask, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Go on.”

“At some point, I’ll answer any questions you have. If you still want to ask them. But…for now, I’m more interested in what you think than what anybody else thinks.”

“About?”

“Me.”

“Okay. So…what about you?”

“Nothing nefarious, I assure you. Just…get to know me. Form your own opinions based on what you come to know.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

He nodded. “I’d just…like to keep it that way. A little longer.”

“Okay,” she responded easily. “Can I ask why?”

“Because it matters to me.”

“Because you think it will help with those decisions you have to make? I’m just one person. And I don’t even know you. How could my opinion, whatever it might be, carry any real weight?”

“Because it would be an honest, unbiased opinion.”

“Ah.” Kirby was nodding, but he could see that she didn’t really understand. “So, what, exactly, is off limits?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She smiled. “For now.”

“How long is for now?”

Her smile grew. “I’ll let you know.”