A Valentine Wish (Gates-Cameron 1)

“No. That was an excuse.”

“Oh.” She moved to another corner of the room, characteristically restless. “You were alone in the kitchen with the new housekeeper.”

“You were there, too?” The thought of her watching him that way, unseen, unheard, bothered him.

She nodded. “I wasn’t spying on you,” she said as though she’d sensed his discomfort. “I’ve been trying to catch you alone so we could talk. You seemed too deeply involved in your conversation for me to disturb you then.”

“We were just making small talk over a late-night snack.” He wasn’t explaining himself to her—not exactly, he assured himself. After all, it was none of Anna’s business who he talked to. Or went out with. Even if the only woman who really interested him was Anna, herself.

“She seems ... very nice.”

“She is.”

Anna had moved closer again, almost within touching range. “Pretty, too. Are you—”

“She’s my employee, Anna,” Dean said. “That’s all.”

She sighed, a faint, delicate sound that whispered down his bare spine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I am the one who urged you to hire her, after all.”

“Yes. But you were right about her. She needed help. And she’s a hard worker. If she stays, shell be a real asset to the inn.”

Anna brushed his cheek with her fingertips, that cool, charged touch that was as pleasurable as it was strange. “I shouldn’t question you about other women,” she said. “You seem very much alone, Dean. It isn’t right for you to be lonely.”

“I’m—” He had to stop to clear his throat. He hoped Anna didn’t notice how her touch affected him. The thin pair of briefs he was wearing provided little cover.

“I’m not lonely,” he assured her. “I have my aunt, and my sister. A few new friends. You,” he added huskily.

She seemed suddenly fascinated by his bare chest, her hands gliding lightly over his shoulders, down his abdomen to his rib cage. He shivered. It was like being stroked with chilled feathers, leaving him cool and hot at the same time.

“You’re so muscular,” she murmured. “So strong and tanned. Not soft and pale like...” Her voice faded.

Dean frowned. “Like your fiancé?”

Her cheeks took on that glow that resembled a blush. “Jeffrey had very fair skin,” she admitted.

“Did you love him?” The question left his mouth before he knew he was going to ask it.

Again, she sighed. “I was very fond of him.”

“That was enough for you?”

“It was all I wanted. I was always afraid of passionate love, the kind my mother felt for my father. It seemed so...so consuming. So obsessive. I didn’t want to give that much of myself to anyone else.”

It felt odd, hearing his own feelings put into someone else’a words. “I’ve felt the same way.”

“You didn’t love your wife?”

“I was fond of her,” he replied, turning her own words back to her.

She smiled sadly. “It wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t enough.”

Her hands still resting on his chest, she looked up at him. “Do you think you’ll ever truly love anyone?”

“I don’t—”

She tilted her head curiously when he stopped. “You don’t what?”