Full Surrender
“My therapist thought it might help. I guess a lot of people are healed by helping others after the kind of ordeal I had, but it had the opposite effect on me. It really brought me down.”
“You’re a sensitive person.”
She shrugged and her fingers resumed their light motion across his chest.
“Maybe that was part of it. But I met a volunteer at the counseling center who brought in therapy animals—cats, dogs, goats, you name it.”
“Cool.”
“One day she brought a therapy donkey—I kid you not, a donkey.” The happiness of the memory was evident in her voice. “Her name was Buttercup and the therapist had an old straw hat that she put on the donkey’s head. It was so cute I had to take a photo.”
“And your talent became evident.” He liked hearing about good things that had happened to her since her return. He’d spent so long feeling a burning in his chest every time he thought of her that this new insight soothed some of his old fears where she was concerned.
“Kind of. I liked the photos and when I showed them to the therapist, she asked if she could use them in an advertisement. Soon, I had developed a word-of-mouth business on the side. The more I photographed pets, the more I enjoyed it.” She pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “There is a warmth and acceptance from animals that relaxed me in a way no other form of therapy had. Besides, I was good at it.”
“So you started your own business.” He couldn’t ignore the feel of her lips on his skin, her kiss igniting fresh heat even though he’d planned to let her go back to sleep.
“Exactly.” Another kiss followed, her mouth hot and moist.
His heart rate jacked up. And that wasn’t the only thing elevating.
“Steph.” He gripped her shoulder, holding her at arm’s length. Meeting her gaze in the dimness.
“Yes?” A mischievous light danced in her eyes.
“You know you’re winding me up over here.”
“Thank goodness.” She grinned. “I thought I was losing my touch.”
With a growl in his throat, he reeled her closer, fitting her body to his. He cupped the base of her neck, tilting her toward him for a kiss and much, much more.
9
STEPHANIE AWOKE TO banging from outside. Still half asleep, she wondered if the siding was getting ripped off the house or if someone had decided to bulldoze the place down.
“Danny!” She clasped his arm, bolting upright in bed. “What is that?”
He moved slower, his eyes still not open.
“Brothers,” he muttered.
What the hell?
Shrugging off the last vestiges of sleep, she listened more carefully. The bang, bang, banging became clearer. Almost as if a small army had descended on the gatehouse and decided to pound on every side.
“Football in five!” a deep male voice shouted. The sound seemed to emanate from just below the second-floor deck off the bedroom. “Don’t make us come in there, bro.”
“Are they serious?” Stephanie realized she and Danny were both naked and definitely not in any position for company. The bedroom was a whirlwind of discarded clothes and tangled sheets.
Downstairs was no better, she recalled, since they’d made a late-night snack, then ended up feasting on each other on the dining room table.
“As a heart attack.” Danny yanked back the covers and stood. “Sorry about this, Steph. I’ll go knock their heads together so you can go back to sleep.”
She glanced at the clock, shocked to discover it was ten in the morning. There was a brief respite from the pounding outside and the quiet seemed to vibrate.
“Actually, that’s okay. I can’t believe how late I slept.” She’d meant to awaken early to walk along the beach and get her head on straight before she met his family. She was nervous and unsure how they’d feel about her coming into his life again—especially now that she’d discovered he had gone a little crazy when she’d been kidnapped. What must his mom think of her not returning his calls afterward?
A chant started outside. Deep male voices shouted in unison. “Murph, Murph, Murph.”
Danny swore at their persistence, barreling into a pair of shorts so he could pry open the French doors and holler at them from the deck. “What the hell kind of welcome home is that?”
“Danny lives!” someone shouted and Stephanie recognized the Finnish foster brother’s accent. There were some catcalls and wolf whistles over his half-dressed state, but all the voices sounded good-natured, and she was certain the guys were happy to see their brother.
Hugging the covers tighter to herself, she admired the muscles in Danny’s back as he braced his arms on the deck railing to lean over and shout down to them.