nodded in their direction as if vaguely surprised that
they were there and exited through the swinging door.
“Are they really all gone?” she whispered.
“Temporarily.” His tone was wry. “Until they develop a yen for an evening snack.”
Her kids had always wanted something later, she remembered guiltily.
“What if we leave out cookies, tea and coffee
makings, cocoa…?”
“So it’s obvious they’re on their own?” He gave her
a slow smile that set her heart to thumping. “I like the
way you think.”
She got out mugs and spoons and filled the teakettle
with water while he laid out tea bags and packets of
cocoa, a jar of instant coffee and a plate of cookies
under clear plastic wrap.
“I need to lock up.” He disappeared. When he came
back, he said, “I mentioned that the kitchen would be
self-service tonight.”
“Oh, good.” She let him guide her, hand on the small
of her back, to his room as if she didn’t know where it
was. “Would you mind if I take a bath?”
His gaze was heavy-lidded but not so imbued with
urgency as it had been when she first arrived. Maybe
he finally believed that she truly was here and would be
for awhile. “Take your time.”
As lovely as the bath felt once she ran it, Fiona
wasn’t tempted to linger. She’d just wanted to feel clean.
When she came out of the bathroom, she thought for
a moment John had fallen asleep. He sat in an upholstered rocker beside the woodstove, legs stretched out, head resting against the back, eyes closed.
They opened before she could feel even a whisper
of disappointment. They were intense, glowing with a
fire he had obviously banked, and she saw that his
relaxed pose was an illusion. He’d been waiting.
He rose to his feet, the chair rocking a few times
behind him. Gaze never leaving her, he crossed the room.
“Your cheeks are pink.”
“I think I ran the water too hot.” Her voice sounded
like someone else’s.
He grazed his knuckles down her warm cheek. His
voice was a murmur, gravelly enough to make heat pool
low in her belly. “I wanted you the first time I saw you.”
“I…I think I wanted you, too.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “You think?”
In fact, she couldn’t think.
“I was cold, and scared, and so grateful.” She let her
head fall back as he moved his mouth down her neck.
“And…and you weren’t very friendly.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “I was scared, too.
By you.”
A bubble of laughter came out as a hiccup, startling
her. “And of my horde of teenagers.”
“Yeah, of them, too. But—” now he stroked her
throat with his fingers “—not the same way.”
“I’m…not very scary,” she managed to say, the
words scarcely more substantial than her exhaled
breath.
For a moment, a shadow crossed his face. “Yeah,
you are.”
“No.” She lifted her hands and laid them on his
cheeks, feeling the texture of the day’s growth of beard.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.” Just like that, his voice was raw, and the
emotion in his eyes so intense her heart cramped. “You
are.”
He kissed her, his longing plain, but his hands and
lips so gentle Fiona felt precious. Even loved.
Her last coherent thought was, Please. Please let
it be love.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE’D ANTICIPATED this a thousand times without really
believing it would happen. Fiona would e-mail with a
last-minute excuse. Half a dozen good ones came to
mind without any effort on John’s part. She felt bad
leaving her mother alone for Christmas. She was having
car trouble. Whatever. Maybe over spring break, she
might say. But call if you get down my way.
Or the other possibility was that she’d show up but
go for the room upstairs. He’d been prepared for that.
Even okay with it. He just wanted her here, laughing at
him, kissing him, pushing him to talk even when he
didn’t want to. Caring.
But he’d gotten luckier than that. So much luckier,
he was still in shock. Here she was, in his room, fresh