He thought it through and nodded. “Me, too.”
Her face split with a smile. “Really?”
“On one condition. We stay warm only through body heat and the fire. As sexy as I find them, I don’t want a hint of red silk pj’s coming between us tonight.”
She snatched a happy kiss and stayed close to rub the tip of his nose with hers. “Deal.”
While she visited the bathroom, he found two oversize robes from his walk-in closet and slipped a couple of extra condoms in the largest robe’s pocket. A moment later, they were “dressed” and stepping over Cruiser to pop their heads inside that downstairs bedroom.
A sidelight cast a soft glow over the room. Bonnie was sound asleep, her arms at right angles along either side of her head. Cruiser appeared to be off in doggy slumberland, too, although Zack wondered whether he was playing possum in case, for some reason, they tried to get him to move.
A moment later, while Trinity got herself snug under the quilts, Zack stoked the fire. When the flames were beyond toasty, he shirked out of his robe and joined her. He pulled at her sash and Trinity didn’t object. She merely sat up, peeled the heavy sleeves off her shoulders and happily snuggled down against him, naked among the pillows and quilts.
Seeing her body briefly in the flickering of the fire glow only fed his intentions to make love again. And again. But she seemed so comfortable nestling against his chest, her cheek resting on one pec, her breath warm on his throat; he didn’t want to disturb her. So he wound that arm more securely around her and dropped a lingering kiss on her sweet-smelling crown.
This day couldn’t have had a better ending.
After the way Zack had brought her to climax, Trinity was content to simply lie here and reflect. But when her trailing nails brushed his growing erection, she couldn’t help from turning her face to graze his flat nipple with her teeth while her hand clutched his shaft and dragged the length up to its tip.
His body locked at the same time his penis throbbed and he rubbed his lips over her hair.
“I was thinking you might want a break but I’m more than happy to play.”
“We can talk as well.”
He shuddered out a sigh. “Keep doing that and I’ll agree to anything.”
“What if I do this?”
She dragged her hand back and forth at the same time dabbing moist kisses between his sternum and his navel.
“I need to warn you right now how good that feels.”
Teasing, she tugged again and his hips came off the floor.
“Tell me more about this house.” Your home.
His eyes closed, he groaned and his head went to one side. “What do you want to know?”
“What drew you to it first?”
“It feels…peaceful.” Her hand slid away and he growled. “You don’t have to stop.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to carry on a conversation.”
“Some say talk is overrated.”
She rolled over more toward him and rested her chin on her bunched hand. “A sense of peace, you say.”
“This whole town has it,” he croaked. “At Christmas time, they put on a big evening of music and games for the kids. At the end of the night, a huge tree in the middle of Main Street gets lit up. The star at the top is massive.”
“Sounds like a great place to raise a family,” she said, half to herself.
“The family I bought this home from had twin boys. The dad would take them fly-fishing and hiking. Both times I came to look the house over, the entire place smelled of brownies baking. I like brownies.”
“Ever tried to bake them yourself?”
“I usually pick some up from a shop in town.” In the flickering light, his gaze sharpened. “Do you bake?”
“I used to do all the cooking when I was younger so now I avoid it every chance I get.”
“Ever go hiking?”
“Never in Colorado.”
He tucked one hand behind his head. While he smiled at some imaginary point beyond the ceiling, Trinity drank in the magnificent view of one bulging bicep.
“The scenery here is pretty amazing,” he said. “The air when you really get out is the purest you’ll ever breathe.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re in a hurry to get back to New York.”
“New York’s home.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Isn’t the saying—‘home is where the heart is’?”
He shifted so that she moved and he lay on his side facing her. As shadows danced over his arm, he curled hair back from her cheek and asked, “Where’s your heart?”
The question took her aback. She thought and decided, “I guess I’m still searching.”
“So not in writing for magazines?”
“That’s what I do, Zack. Not who I am.”
“Why can I see you working with children somehow?”
“I thought about it once. Believe it or not, I wanted to work somewhere in Child Services. But I didn’t know if I was strong enough.” She had a flashback to that much earlier darker time and winced. “Too close to it all, I guess.”
“I think being close is exactly what a job like that needs. Any department or organization to do with children would be lucky to have you.”
She wanted to hug him for that but…“I wouldn’t feel as if I could ever do enough.”
His grin was soft, encouraging. “Says you who obviously has so much to give.”
When his gaze lowered to her lips and his mouth found hers again, Trinity was taken over by a wave of new emotions, feelings that left her so energized and at the same time strangely serene. Zack Harrison barely knew her, and yet this minute it felt as if he knew her better than anyone, including herself.
He was dreaming of a snarling tiger with foot-long canines pouncing on Bonnie, meaning to drag her away, when the rhythmic pounding of those distant jungle drums suddenly changed tack into a more conscious stream and Zack was thrown awake with a jolt.
Jumping up, Zack’s reflexes sent his every sense flying to the source of the noise—the windows. One horrifying moment later, he realized what he was hearing and why. On the same breath, he understood that he was crouched in a defense/attack stance and wearing exactly no clothes.
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been embarrassed but he was darn sure he’d never forget this moment.
Ripping a quilt off the nearest recliner, he lashed the bulk as best he could around his hips at the same time Trinity groaned and, scratching her head, sat up. Wild hair. Big yawn. And no clothes there, either. Not a stitch.
Blinking drowsy eyes, she squinted up at him and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s outside?”
“Someone else needing a home?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the woman from Child Services.”
Trinity’s questioning look turned to a mask of stark horror. And as her focus flew to the windows—to the woman wearing rubber boots and a dour face—he