A Wish For Love (Gates-Cameron 2)

Her eyes glowed. “Yes,” she said with some satisfaction. “You were waiting for me.”

He drew her closer. “I couldn’t have asked for a more precious gift.”

She tugged his head down to hers.

They both jumped when someone knocked loudly on the bedroom door. “Bailey?” Mark called out from the other side. “Hey, Bailey, are you in there? Are you all right?”

She groaned. “I’m fine, Mark. Go away.”

“C’mon, Bailey, you can’t stay out here by yourself. We’re all worried about you. Come into the inn with me, okay?”

“She’s fine, Mark,” Ian called out on a quick, devilishimpulse. “Go away.”

There was a sudden silence outside the door. And then the sound of a throat being loudly cleared. “Yeah, okay. Er, sure. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

“Good night, Mark,” Bailey said. Then she dissolved into giggles as he made a noisy and rapid exit from the cottage.

“You,” she told Ian with a mock scowl, “are bad.”

“So I’ve been told. Did I embarrass you?”

“Are you kidding? You’ve ruined my reputation. You know what you’ll have to do now, don’t you?”

“Make love to you again,” he said promptly.

She threw her arms around his neck. “That’ll work.”

IT WAS ALMOST DAWN when Bailey woke. There was just enough light in the room for her to see Ian, standing by the window, looking out. He wore only his slacks, and his arms were crossed over his chest, as if he was cold. He looked to be very deeply wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Bailey slipped out of bed and walked toward him, wondering what was bothering him. What she could do to help.

He turned at her movement. He stood very still as she approached.

“Ian?” she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you all right?”

He let out a long, deep breath. “You’ll think I’m being foolish.”

“No. Tell me.”

“I was afraid you’d wake up… and you wouldn’t see me,” he admitted, his voice rough. “That I would reach for you…and you wouldn’t even know I was here.”

There were those pesky tears again. She blinked them furiously away and forced herself to smile as she stepped into his arms. “You won’t get away from me that easily, Ian Cameron,” she murmured. “I’ve brought you back, and I’m going to keep you.”

His arms locked around her, almost driving the breath from her lungs. “Bailey,” he said hoarsely, hiding his face in her hair. “I love you.”

She held him tightly. “I love you, too, Ian. Forever.”

WARM WATER CASCADED over Ian’s shoulders, slid down his chest and arms. Bailey followed one drop from his neck to his navel, marveling at everything she saw between. “I won’t ever get tired of looking at you,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen anyone more perfectly formed.”

Her compliment seemed to embarrass him. His cheeks reddened from more than the steamy water coming out of the shower head. He muttered something incoherent and very male.

Bailey smiled, testing his right bicep with appreciation. “Nice,” she purred.

He growled and looked down at her hand. Then went still. “I had a scar there.”

She lifted an inquiring eyebrow. “A scar? Where?”

“Here.” His left forefinger traced a path along his right arm, from his elbow almost down to his wrist. “I ripped my arm open on a sheet of jagged metal. OI’ Doc Cochrane had to sew it back up. It left a scar.”