And that would have been fine—only last night had been more than just sex: they had made love.
‘You’re awake.’
Glancing over at the doorway, she blinked. If she had been imagining that this morning they would naturally follow on from last night’s intimacy, then she had clearly been alone in those thoughts.
Farlan was fully dressed, and watching her without any sign of yesterday’s narrow-eyed hunger.
‘It’s a beautiful day. The blizzard must have blown itself out overnight. Would you like tea or coffee?’
She stared at him mutely, silenced by the cool, almost brisk tone of his voice and the unspoken message it contained.
‘Tea, please,’ she said quickly, trying to match his manner.
He turned and disappeared back into the kitchen and she sat up, wishing that she had paid more attention to where she had dropped her clothes.
And that she could shift the strange pang of disappointment beneath her ribs.
Kicking back from that thought, she picked up her phone.
Nine-fifteen.
She had slept so late.
‘Here.’
Farlan was back. Still stunned by the time, she reached up unthinkingly and the blanket fell away from her body.
His face stilled. ‘I’ll put it here.’ He backed away, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I’ll let you get dressed.’
Watching him retreat, she found her clothes and dressed hurriedly. Picking up her tea, she frowned. ‘This is real milk.’
‘Yeah, when I went outside to check the car I noticed a farm.’
Her eyes jerked up. He was leaning against the doorframe again, rubbing the stubble on his face. Watching the flickering tendons in his hand, she felt something tug beneath her skin.
Wrenching her gaze away, she walked across the room and drew the curtains. When she looked outside it was hard to believe that last night’s storm had even happened. Everything was so still. Beneath the clear blue sky the snow was smooth and deep and even in every direction as far as she could see.
‘Classlochie Farm? That’s quite a hike.’
He shrugged. ‘About forty minutes. But I needed to clear my head so—’
She lifted her cup to hide the flush on her cheeks. He had thrown those words out without hesitation. Clearly he had meant what he’d said last night.
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. It was what she’d expected and what she wanted too, she told herself.
‘I told them we’d got stranded and they gave me some milk. They offered some eggs and bacon too, but I said I was already running late.’ He hesitated. ‘I suppose we should talk about last night…’
She felt his gaze on her face. ‘Yes, I suppose we should,’ she said slowly.
She smothered a gasp as he put his hands on her arms and pulled her closer.
‘No regrets, right?’
For a moment she didn’t answer. His hands felt warm and firm against her skin—and good, unbelievably good. She felt her heart swell for a second. Then she shook her head.
‘No. No regrets. I just want it to be okay between us.’
It was incredibly tempting to believe that seven years ago they had simply been knocked off course, that Tom and Diane renting Lamington was fate stepping in to bring them back together.