Chill Factor

Now, recalling the incident that, for her, had been the deathblow to the marriage, Lilly shuddered and instinctively pulled her knees closer to her chest, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow.

However, after a few seconds she reminded herself that her marriage was history. She didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Yesterday had marked her emancipation from Dutch. No longer shackled to him legally or emotionally, she could look strictly forward.

/> The timing of Ben Tierney’s reentry into her life was strangely ironic. He had reappeared on the day she was officially free. Last night, he hadn’t only roused slumbering erotic sensors but awakened them with a clamor and a clang. His kiss had made her ears ring.

She had been attracted the moment he smiled at her from his seat on that creaky, rusty bus. Over the course of that day on the river, she’d grown to like everything about him. His looks, certainly. What wasn’t to like? But she also liked him, his intelligence, the ease with which he could converse on any subject.

Others in the group that day had also been attracted to him. The college girls had made no secret of their infatuation. But even the blowhard, who at first had seemed resentful of Tierney’s superior kayaking skill, was asking him for pointers by the end of the day. With no apparent effort, Tierney drew people. No one was a stranger to him.

Yet he remained a stranger.

He befriended people by inviting them to talk about themselves, but he revealed nothing of himself. Was it that paradox that made him mysterious and seductive?

It startled her even to think the word seductive, because of its sinister overtones. But she couldn’t think of a better word to describe Tierney’s magnetism. On the two occasions she’d been with him she had responded to that indefinable quality to a degree that was disquieting.

Since their first hello they’d been moving toward last night’s kiss. Separately but unquestionably. So when he kissed her, it had seemed like an inevitability that had simply been postponed for a few months.

The kiss had been worth the wait. She had vivid recollections of his thumbs pressing against her cheekbones as he tilted her face up to his, of his breath against her lips, of his tongue sliding evocatively into her mouth. Thinking about it now caused a purl of desire deep within her.

Making as little noise as possible, she turned to look at him and smiled. He was too long for the sofa. The armrest caught him midcalf. He’d rolled a pillow into a neck support to keep the back of his head elevated.

He was covered with blankets up to his chin, which overnight had become shadowed with stubble. He’d had years of exposure to wind and sun, but he wore their damage remarkably well. She liked the lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. His lips were slightly chapped. She remembered that from the kiss, how they’d felt rubbing against hers.

She wouldn’t have minded a longer kiss. Or a second one. Her refusal to sleep with him hadn’t necessarily excluded kissing, but apparently he had taken it as such.

Either that or he hadn’t liked it as much as she. No. Impossible. Even if she hadn’t felt the unmistakable pressure in his groin, his low growl of self-denial when he released her was enough to convince her that he’d been into it as much as, if not more than, she. He’d seemed almost angry when he broke the kiss, released her, and turned away.

So why hadn’t he continued? Or at least asked if it was all right if he did? She’d made it clear that she no longer had any romantic inclinations toward Dutch. He should assume she wasn’t involved with someone else, but—

Her train of thought derailed.

She wasn’t involved with anyone else, but what about Tierney?

He didn’t wear a wedding ring. He’d never mentioned a wife or significant other, but she had never specifically asked. It meant nothing that he’d asked her for a date the day they met. Married men dated other women all the time.

Last night he’d made no reference to a wife or girlfriend who would be worried about him when he didn’t return home, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one who was frantically pacing the floor and wondering where he was and with whom, just as she’d wondered about Dutch too many nights to count.

How naïve of her to assume there wasn’t a woman in his life. A man who looked like him? Come on, Lilly, get real.

Her gaze drifted from him to his backpack, which was still on the floor beneath the end table where he’d pushed it last night, claiming it contained nothing useful.

It might, however, contain something informative.

• • •

“Scott.”

“Hmm?”

“Get up.”

“Hmm?”

“I said get up.”

Scott rolled onto his back and pried open his eyes. Wes was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, frowning down at him. Scott propped himself on his elbows and looked through the window at total whiteout. He couldn’t even see the backyard fence. “They didn’t cancel school?”

“Sure they did. But if you think you’re going to lay on your lazy butt all day, you’ve got another think coming. Get up. I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. You’ve got three minutes.”