child, he’d had free rein of the wide-open, with the added comfort of a sometimes-too-close-knit community. After his father’s death his mom had held on to the place as long as she could. In the end, she’d had no choice but to sell. She’d bought the small house she still lived in and used the rest to put him through college. As thankful as he was, he regretted losing his heritage. Especially on nights like this. To have a peaceful view like this every night would be a blessing.
Finger on the button, he peered through the lens, angling for the best shot.
“Glad to see you didn’t freeze on your walk.” Renata.
He should be surprised. So why wasn’t he?
He hadn’t left his room to find her. He’d left his room because he was restless. She had nothing to do with that. But there was a part of him that knew he was lying to himself. And finding her here stirred up all sorts of emotions. Should he make small talk? Or bolt back inside?
She waited, rocking silently, her long blond hair pulled over one shoulder and a cup of something steaming in her hands. At ease and relaxed. Unlike him. Standing here, alone with her, he was wound tight and barely holding on. Not that he could say any of that to her. The longer she waited, the more her smile faded. What the hell was wrong with him?
If he kept staring at her, he’d scare her. He didn’t want to scare her. “I managed to keep all my fingers and toes,” he managed, his voice gruff and thick.
“Glad to hear it. I imagine taking pictures would be hard without them—your fingers I mean. Guess you don’t need toes for it, though.” Her smile returned. “And a night like tonight deserves to be photographed.”
He studied her closely, unable to hold back the answering smile her teasing caused. Yes. Beautiful.
She stood, cradling her mug closer. “Want some hot chocolate?”
No. Not really. So why was he nodding?
“I’ll get you some,” she said, heading toward the door.
“I mean, no, I’m fine.” Why the hell had he stopped her? If she went inside, he could leave—put distance between them. But if she left... “You’re familiar with this place?” he asked.
Her smile changed, like she knew a secret. “A bit. Why?”
“Small talk, I guess.” He wasn’t good at this—talking for the sake of talking. Recently, he spent the majority of his time with two old women who never let him get a word in edgewise and a baby who was content to make random noises.
“What’s your favorite thing to photograph?” she asked, leaning against the railing at his side.
He looked down at her as the wind kicked up. Her sweet scent flooded his nostrils and his brain. The ache was sharp and sudden. He’d almost forgotten this. The urge to touch a woman, to take her hand...or hold her close. But now, staring down at Renata, he wondered what it would be like to feel her in his arms. To run his fingers through her soft hair. Or breathe in her scent. To taste her lips and, for a little while, forget about heartache and loneliness.
Chapter 2
This big, gorgeous, brooding man wanted to kiss her. He’d been staring at her mouth so long she began to think he might just do it. Worse yet, she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She wanted this big, gorgeous, brooding man to kiss her. Even the fact that he was a complete and total stranger wasn’t a deterrent.
She’d never been one to act on attraction or take risks. And her uneventful and disappointing love life was the result. But tonight, with Ash, the connection between them was too tangible, electric and undeniable. The way he was looking at her—he might as well be touching her.
“Ash?” she whispered.
He blinked, swallowed and stepped back. “Jet lag,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. But when he looked her way, his jaw tightened and his lips thinned.
He was embarrassed. He shouldn’t be.
She’d never played games. Ever. When she was a kid, she’d asked for what she wanted—figuring the worst that could happen was being denied. This was the same thing, wasn’t it? If he wanted to kiss her and she wanted to kiss him, they should. As long as there was no one and nothing stopping them? She cleared her throat, fully aware that he was trying not to look at her. “Are you married?”
His gaze locked with hers. “No.”
She swallowed, then asked, “Girlfriend?”
“No. I’m as single as a person can be,” he said, a hint of pain tugging at her heart. His pale eyes returned to hers. He swallowed. “What about you, Renata?”
“Same as you,” she said, her voice wavering. “Good thing, too, since I can tell you want to kiss me.”
There it was again, that surprise that widened his gaze. Right before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I do?” His voice was lovely, all gruff and gravel.
“Yes.” She’d learned how to fake confidence from her four brothers—something she was incredibly grateful for.