It was sure going to be hard to keep telling himself that lie whenever he was in Nora’s presence. The warm porch light drew interesting shadows on her features, especially that one tempting hollow along her collarbone left exposed by her jacket.
He had risked much to face his past so that he could move forward. What was one more gamble?
He advanced a step and indicated the stand of trees between their homes. “You appear to have conquered your night fears.”
Nora’s smile slipped. “Appearances are what I do best.” She backed away.
The cryptic remark irked him. Her movement away from him irked him more. “Nora, wait.” He bolted up the remaining steps.
She lifted her chin with the kind of hauteur designed to keep a man at twenty paces. “What is it?”
A splash from the flashlight betrayed her nervousness. The wind reached into the porch’s shelter and teased loose a few strands of her hair. He lifted his hand and touched the silken tendrils. Her hair was as cool and soft as he remembered it. Would her skin feel the same?
He traced his fingertips along the elegant line of her jaw, feeling her tremble. She pulled her head away from his touch, but he captured her chin and lifted her face to his. Was it just wishful thinking, or was it desire he now saw darkening her eyes? There was only one way to find out. He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
He had meant the kiss to be a mere brush of the lips, but he couldn’t help himself. He lingered, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Then, when she softened against him and sighed, he deepened the kiss.
And unleashed a pulsing urgency inside him to make Nora his again. He slid a hand around her waist and jerked her against him, hard.
In an instant Nora’s body went from soft to brittle. She wrenched away. Her kiss-reddened lips quivered briefly before she pressed them together.
Connor silently cursed himself. He treated his plants with more care than he had handled her, especially after her panic this afternoon. With a tremendous effort, he yanked a leash around his careening need.
“Sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to be so intense.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. Her protective gesture drove a heavy fist of guilt into his stomach. He steeled himself for the stinging rebuke he deserved.
“It’s okay.”
Her words were so low he wasn’t sure he heard them. “What?”
She rubbed her arms as if chilled. His blood was still so hot he felt as if steam must be rolling off him. She looked him square in the eye.
“Connor, I’m a woman, not the teenager you remember.” She said softly, almost to herself, “I’m not sure I was ever that teenager.” She gave a shrug. “I know all too well about physical needs and desires.”
For some reason her comment didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like the idea that Nora had explored passion with another man.
That’s all in the past, he reminded himself.
“But I’m not interested in digging up an old affair that’s been long dead for both of us. For the time you’re here, Connor, it’s best if we keep matters on a professional level.” She reached behind her, opened the door and slipped inside. “Good night.”
Ha. That’s what she thought. Before she could shut the door, he crossed the landing and planted his foot on the threshold. He brought his face close to her startled one. “You’re mistaken on two counts.”
She moistened her lips.
Good. He had her attention. He leaned forward until his breath stirred her hair. “One, I’m not here for a visit. I’m here to start a business. Two—” he dipped his head until his mouth hovered a kiss away “—if what we shared moments ago was blighted desire, you’ve been in hibernation far too long. I’ll just have to cultivate you.”
Enjoying her indignant gasp, Connor allowed himself the pleasure of nipping her lower lip. He smiled slowly as her gasp turned into a moan. He removed his foot from the doorway, turned and went down the steps.
Why? Why had he left her?
Nora started awake with the question on her lips, lips that still tasted Connor’s soul-searing kiss. Dim light crept across the bedroom floor. She glanced at the clock on the stand. Six-fifteen.
She threw back the twisted comforter and rose. Even the cool dawn before her couldn’t chill the memories of last night. She rubbed her hands over her arms. No question about it. She’d had a close call.
His passion as a man was something she’d never experienced, never realized existed. Such heat and hunger, such tantalizing pleasure. Relentless hot waves had drawn her into the dark tide of his possession until she had practically drowned in him. Only the sudden press of his aroused body had brought her to her senses before it’d been too late.
She now knew what her mother had meant.
Staring sightlessly out the window, Nora no longer saw the backyard. Instead, she saw the dingy interior of a squalid apartment.
“Please, Mom, don’t go out tonight.” She thrust her thin eight-year-old body in front of the door.
Tess, heavily perfumed, pushed her aside. Pausing in the opened doorway, she leaned close to Nora and whispered, “You’ll understand when you’re older, kid. The only time I can forget is when I’m lost in a man.” Then she had left, leaving Nora to cope with her sick sister.
Lost in a man. Nora closed her eyes and pressed her throbbing temple against the chilled glass. Was she no better than her mother? All Connor had to do was touch her, and she turned into putty.
Yet, on some deep level, it didn’t feel wrong. Only Connor had ever felt right to her.
She thumped her head lightly against the pane and then straightened. Since there was no going back to sleep this Sunday, she could always work on her brief until the others awoke. Anything to keep her troubling thoughts of Connor at bay. She crossed to the door and went into the hallway.
All was silent, but her mind found no peace in the stillness. Compelled, she walked to her daughter’s bedroom and carefully turned the knob. She’d just look in, reassure herself that Abby was all right.
Nora stepped inside.
Abby’s bed was empty.
The kitchen’s overhead light glared harshly in the predawn hour, its naked bulb consistent with the rest of the stark surroundings. As Connor tugged on his work boots, he morosely surveyed the room. The once-white linoleum was gray with age and grime. The sooty wood of the cabinets bore testament to years of cooking with grease. Somewhere under the smoke-crusted surface Connor thought oak paneling might exist. The pea-green Formica countertops were chipped and knife-scarred.
Sighing, Connor stood and crossed to the counter by the rusted steel sink where his coffeemaker sat—a gleaming high-tech alien amidst the kitchen relics—and poured himself a mug. He took a bracing swallow, and the liquid scalded his tongue. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before taking another gulp.
Connor eased his hip against the sink and looked out the curtained window. In the misty light he could see the shadowy outlines of the barn and sheds. Bran, out for his morning constitutional, was circling the yard. Beyond the buildings, dark ripples of fields edged the black forest on the left side.
This was all his now. The only home he’d ever known.
He shook his head. “Ed, you old coot. What were you thinking when you left me this place?” The room was silent. The farmer’s presence would be felt outside in his beloved fields and gardens.
Connor contemplated the awakening vista. In