Tycoon's Temptation. Katherine Garbera
cold, the bubbles long gone when the lights flickered and went out.
She stared into the inky darkness. Well, great. But it wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a power outage, and as long as she ran Tiff’s, it would undoubtedly not be the last.
She tossed aside her book, well out of the way of any water splashing, and climbed out of the tub, racing the towel over her chilled skin and fumbling into her robe again. Going by feel, she pulled the stopper in the tub and padded into her bedroom. She lit the oil lamp on her dresser and went back into the bathroom, tidying up by the dim light there. Then she went out into the hallway and checked the rest of the house.
All was still. Silent, save the slow tick of the windup anniversary clock sitting on the mantel in the parlor.
She pulled back the lacy curtains to look out the front.
The entire street was dark, meaning it wasn’t just Tiff’s that suffered a power outage this time. By the moonlight, however, she could see the fresh drifts of snow in the street.
It took her a moment to make a shape out of the shadows. But she realized when the shadow moved, becoming two distinct forms in the middle of the street where the snowfall wasn’t quite as deep, that it was two people.
One headed off down the street, a genderless blob of dark coat and hat. One headed toward Tiff’s.
She straightened abruptly, letting the curtain fall back into place. She had no time to escape down the hall to her room, and in seconds, she heard footsteps on the porch, followed by the creak of the front door.
Great. Just great.
She didn’t even have the sense to extinguish her oil lamp. She just stood there in the parlor, listening. Visualizing his motions, along with his sounds—closing the door behind him, the creak of his leather jacket being removed, the nearly soundless tread up the hallway, passing the parlor doorway.
Pausing.
“So you’re the glow in an otherwise dark night.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. The lamp bobbled in her hand, and she quickly steadied it before she dropped the infernal thing and set fire to the place. Her other hand clutched the lapels of her robe together. “The power is out.”
He was kind enough not to point out that he’d undoubtedly noticed that particular point. “Is everything okay?”
She wanted to ask him about the person he’d been with. An assignation? She’d never before used that word. Never had cause. She didn’t have cause now. The man was only a guest—a reluctant visitor in Lucius—a situation for which she was responsible. “Everything is fine. I was just, um, checking the place over. To be safe.” It was the gospel truth, yet she still felt as if she’d been caught spying on him. She hurriedly left the parlor. “Here.” She extended the lamp to him. “You’ll need this to get around.”
“It’s late.”
So, he could state the obvious as well as she could. “Yes.” And maybe that was why she felt unaccountably emotional. “Do you want the lamp or not? I can find my way around here with my eyes closed.”
He still didn’t take it. He took another step, entering further into her small circle of light. She could see her black scarf hanging from one hand, his jacket from the other.
“You’re upset.”
“Of course I’m not. I have nothing to be upset about.”
Another step. His head tilted a little to one side. “Hadley, it’s just a power outage. Nothing to worry about.”
If only she’d been quick enough to use that as an excuse. “Right. I know.” Did she smell perfume on him? “Well, here. Take the lamp. Don’t want you tripping on something and cracking open your head more than it’s already been.”
“I don’t need the lamp.” He tossed aside the jacket and scarf and closed his hands over her forearms beneath the wide sleeves of her robe. “I want to know what’s got you so jumpy. Is it your brother-in-law again?”
“What? No. Charlie never bothers me. Last night was just because, because he was drunk.” His fingers were cold, yet they still made her skin heat, particularly when his hands slid farther up, curving around her elbows. “I told you that.”
His thumbs glided over her skin. “Then, what’s wrong, Hadley?”
Each gentle brush of his thumbs yanked her nerves tighter. The lamp’s flame danced inside the tall glass globe, and she tightened her shaking grip on it, holding it sternly between them. But keeping control of one part of her left her tongue unfortunately unguarded.
“Who was that woman? I thought you didn’t know anyone in Lucius.”
Chapter Six
Dane cursed himself. He had no desire to upset Hadley. “I went to the Tipped Barrel.” Which didn’t answer her question at all.
Her eyes looked liquid in the flickering light. “You probably shouldn’t drink with a head injury.”
He forced himself to keep his touch light on her arms, though his fingers didn’t want much more in life at the moment than to keep exploring. To see if her skin was as exquisitely soft everywhere else. “I wasn’t. I played some pool.” And got Mandy’s latest report on the investigation.
She looked disbelieving. “Oh. Well. Hope you didn’t lose your shirt or anything. Vince plays pool there sometimes. And Palmer Frame. He was one of the EMTs who came with the ambulance.”
“Yeah. I saw him there. He mentioned the surprise party you’re throwing for your sister. Sounds like you’ve invited half the town. I didn’t see Charlie.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” she murmured. She lightened up her guarded hold of the lamp, moving one hand to clutch the overlapping lapels of her pale robe tightly together. As if he needed any more reasons to wonder what she wore beneath it.
The thick terry cloth covered her from head to toe, and the only breach in it—which he’d already taken advantage of—seemed to be the wide sleeves. He needed her to go to bed so he could stop letting himself be distracted by her.
“The place was pretty quiet, actually. Probably because of the storm.”
She nodded. Pressed her lips together and nodded again. “Well.”
Yeah. Well. He let go of her and grabbed up his jacket from the back of the chair where it had landed. “Lead the way,” he said. “I’ll follow.”
She moved past him, and he got a heady hint of some warm, feminine scent. Flowery, but not sweet. And her hair was damp at the ends, he realized as she walked down the hall, turning back now and again as if he were likely to get lost along the way. Shower or bathtub, he wondered, and kicked himself for it, since he was the one to suffer the consequences of wondering.
She paused near his door until he’d opened it, then followed him inside when he did. He went stock-still for a moment, but she didn’t look at him as she crossed to the dresser and set the lamp on it long enough to light the two fat candles she’d left there earlier that day. Then she slipped out of his bedroom again.
“Good night, Wood.” In a half-dozen steps, she disappeared behind her own bedroom door, giving him no hint whatsoever of the room beyond her door.
Probably pure innocence, to suit its occupant.
He closed his own door and curtailed the impulse to thump his head against the wood in frustration. The candlelight flickered over the walls, casting enough light for him to see by. He dumped the jacket on the end of the bed, grabbed one of the candles and went into the adjoining bathroom.
The delicate sent of flowers hit him with the subtle finesse of a two-by-four. He shoved the candle on the glass shelf above the sink and sat on the edge of the old-fashioned, deep tub. He knew if he reached down and touched the bottom,