Sultry Escapes: Waking Up to You. Leslie Kelly
when that would be?
“Well, thanks for dinner,” she said as she got into her car. She wasn’t meeting his eyes. Embarrassed? Angry? He wasn’t sure.
Muttering, “You’re welcome,” he pushed the door shut. He strode to his own truck, not turning around as she revved up her car’s engine, threw it in gear and tore out of the parking lot like she had a dragon on her tail.
Okay, so she was angry.
Hell.
It’s better this way, he reminded himself.
Somehow, though, he didn’t feel better. In fact, he felt like crap. Crappy enough that, rather than heading right for the Sonoma Highway and home, he stopped at a liquor store and bought a six-pack. Not just because he had the feeling he could use a second beer, but because he didn’t want to get back to the estate until he knew she would be safely tucked inside Buddy’s house.
But after his stop, as he began driving home, leaving the highway and hitting some of the twisty back roads, he couldn’t get the image of her standing there, enjoying the wind in her face, out of his mind. Especially because that wind threatened to take the steering wheel out of his hands a couple of times. And now it had started to rain.
“Shit. You should have followed her home.”
Candace wasn’t used to driving in this area, with hilly roads full of dangerous switchbacks and steep drop-offs. The bad weather made it even worse. If he hadn’t been such an ass, he could have made sure she was safe, and he practically held his breath until he got to the estate and saw her rental car in front of the main house.
He parked his truck outside the cottage, breathing a deep sigh of relief that she’d made it, too. Replaying their conversation back at the bar, he knew he’d behaved badly. So much for the smooth gentleman he’d always been praised as being in his old life. He’d been a total dick to Candace half the time. He’d been like a kid who knew he couldn’t play with the toy he most wanted, so he’d pretended he didn’t want it at all.
Tonight, he’d reacted like a prosecutor instead of like a man who was getting to know an honest, refreshing, bright and sexy woman. He hadn’t given her the benefit of the doubt. Was he so jaded, so used to being lied to and manipulated that he no longer had the capacity to give someone a chance?
He owed her an apology. And if all the lights hadn’t been off in the main house—the place utterly pitch-black in the windy night—he would have gone over and offered it up, even though he’d have had to run through the driving rain. But the building was obviously shut down. She’d come home, turned off every light and gone to bed, probably sending him a silent message to stay away from her.
“Message received,” he said as he hurried to the door of his cottage, getting soaked along the way, and pulled out his key.
Buddy always laughed at him for locking the door since they were out in the middle of nowhere, but the big-city habit was too ingrained. He found himself wondering, though, if he’d really been out of it when he’d left earlier this evening for the hospital. Because the knob twisted easily in his hand. He must have forgotten to lock it.
Letting himself in, he reached for the switch on the wall and flipped it up. Nothing.
“Oh, God,” he mumbled, suddenly realizing why the world was so dark. The power was notoriously unreliable in high winds, and his was probably out.
He waited for his eyes to adjust, before making his way across the big room that dominated the main floor of the cottage. It served as both living room and kitchen, the two separated by a stone fireplace that opened on either side. It was a great feature and he’d used it and nothing else to heat the place during the winter. Looked like it was going to come in handy tonight, too, both for heat and for illumination.
Before he moved to light it, he thought about Candace. She was alone in that huge house. That huge drafty house with its spiders, crickets, cracked window casings and frigid tile floors. No lights, no heat, no hot water—which was pretty well par for the course—and he’d bet the phones were out.
“Better go check on her,” he mumbled.
Grabbing the coat he’d just placed on the hook, he began to put it on. But he hadn’t even gotten one arm in a sleeve when he heard a soft, feminine voice coming from the sofa on the other side of the room.
“You don’t have to check on her. She’s right here.”
CANDACE HAD ONLY been waiting for Oliver for a few minutes—since just after she’d gotten back, realized the power was out and decided his cozy cottage with the fireplace would be a better place to ride out the storm. But that had been long enough for her to decide she’d made a mistake.
Sitting here in the dark, in his space, had been more disturbing than comforting. The whole place smelled like him—all musky, spicy and hot. Utterly masculine. Her body reacted to the scent even before her mind could put it together and figure out it wasn’t just the cold making her nipples hard.
She also worried how he would react to finding her there, in the dark, and what he would make of her presence. He was a private person; it had taken him days to even admit to her that he was really an attorney. He probably wouldn’t take kindly to her using Buddy’s keys to let herself in and make herself at home. She suddenly felt a little like Goldilocks. Add a broken chair and a few bowls of porridge and she might come face-to-face with an angry bear.
She’d decided to leave, to brave the cold and the darkness in the main house, when she heard him pull up outside. Her chance to escape was gone. She had to stay and brazen it out.
“Candace?”
“It sure isn’t Goldilocks,” she muttered.
He hung his coat back up and approached, moving carefully in the darkness. She’d been here longer; her eyes had adjusted, so she could easily see him moving toward her. His hair was wet, dark strands sticking to his unsmiling face.
“How did you get in?”
“I’m sorry. I used Buddy’s key. I know it was rude.”
“And illegal.”
Twisting her hands in front of her, she rose from the couch. “I was freaked out. That place is spooky enough when it’s daylight. I kept picturing spiders lurking in every corner.”
“Not the ghost of Fatty Arbuckle stalking you?”
“Oh, great, thanks. That makes me feel tons better!”
“I’m surprised you know who I was referring to.”
“Hello, movie biz, remember? Was he one of your greatgrandpa’s cronies?”
“They did a few films together,” he said.
Very cool.
“Let me brighten things up a little in here.”
He headed for the kitchen. She heard him fumble with something, and a moment later, a soft light spotlighted his handsome face. He came back carrying a thick candle, which he placed on the coffee table.
“So, do you want me to leave?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s coming down in buckets. You’d be soaked to the skin with no way to warm up.”
True. “I can stay?”
“Yes. Sit down. I’ll light a fire.”
“That would be wonderful.”
She curled up on the couch again, watching him. Fortunately he’d had logs and kindling already set in the fireplace, and they sparked quickly. Within minutes, the small space was benefiting from the heat created by the blaze, and the room was enveloped in a lovely golden glow.
She took the opportunity to look around a bit, knowing he’d only been here a few months, but sensing he’d taken steps to make the place his own. There were some nonfiction books on the mantel, along