“No.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Tell me.”
“I thought I could hear the drums, slowly, the sounds of camps breaking to prepare for battle. I could smell the fear, the excitement, the dread. I thought I could hear the house waking around me, the whispers and creaks. I was petrified, paralyzed. If I could have moved, I’d have hauled my butt out of here. The guys would’ve rubbed my nose in it for years, but I’d have run like a rabbit if my legs had moved.”
“You were just a boy.”
“You’ve never been a boy, so you don’t know that made it ten times worse. I’d gotten through the night, even gotten a kick out of it. And here it was morning, dawn breaking, and I stood here with my teeth chattering. When it passed, I just stood looking out this window. And I thought, no damn house is going to get the better of me. Nothing’s going to get the better of me. I’ll own this house before I’m finished.”
He smiled then, set the glass down. “I don’t know how many times I came back here, alone, after that. Waiting for something to happen, wishing it would, just so I could stand up to it. I crept through every room of this place at one time or another. I heard things, saw things, felt things. The night I left town, I promised myself I’d come back.”
“Now you have it,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.” Faintly embarrassed, he looked down at her. “I never told anyone that.”
“Then neither will I.” She lifted a hand, touched his cheek. “Whatever your reasons, you’re doing something important. This house has been neglected too long.”
“Were you frightened, staying here through the night?”
“No. Not of the house.”
His brow lifted. “Of me?”
“Yes. I’m frightened of you.”
The humor faded from his eyes. “I was rough with you,” he said carefully.
“I don’t mean that.” She turned away. Out of habit, she set a kettle on the stove, flicked on the burner. “I’ve never been the way I was last night, with anyone. So out of control. So…needy. I’m a little surprised when I think back and… Well.” She let out a shaky breath, searched out a filter for the drip cone.
“Surprised? Or sorry?”
“Not sorry, Rafe.” Making the effort, she turned back and met his eyes. “No, not sorry at all. Uneasy, because I know now exactly what you can do to me. I knew making love with you would be exciting. I didn’t know it would be so shattering. Nothing about you is tidy or predictable. The way I like things to be.”
“I want you now. That should be predictable.”
“My heart jumps,” she managed. “Literally, when you say things like that. But I do need things to be tidy.” Opening the can of coffee, she deliberately measured out scoops. “I imagine your men will be coming along in an hour or so. This probably isn’t the best time to talk this out.”
“Nobody’s coming today. There’s better than two feet of snow out there, on top of what we already had.”
“Oh.” Her hand faltered, spilling ground coffee on the stove.
“We’re snowbound for a while, darling. You can talk all you want.”
“Well.” After clearing her throat, she faced him again. “I just think it’s best if we both understood things.”
“What things?”
“Things.” She bit the word off, furious at herself for hesitating. “Things that we didn’t quite finish outlining last night. That what we’re having is a mutual satisfying and physical affair, no strings, no entanglements, no…”
“Complications?”
“Yes.” Relieved, she nodded. “Exactly.”
Surprised to find himself annoyed with her cool-headed description—one that should have mirrored his own wishes—he scratched his head. “That’s tidy enough. But if that means you’re planning on seeing somebody else, it’ll get messy when I break him in half.”
“Oh, of all the ridiculous—”
“And cut off his—”
“Stop that.” She blew out a heated breath. “I have no intention of seeing someone else while we’re involved, but if I—”
“Smarter to stop there,” he said quietly. “Let’s just say we have a mutually satisfying and exclusive physical relationship. That suit you?”
Calmer, she turned back to pour boiling water through the filter. “Yes, I can agree to that.”
“You’re a piece of work, Regan. You want the contract in triplicate?”
“I only want to make sure we expect the same things.” She concentrated hard on covering the grounds with water, on being sure not to pour too much water, or too little. “We haven’t taken time to really get to know each other. Now we’re lovers. I don’t want you to think I’m looking for any more than that.”
“And if I’m looking for more?”
Her fingers whitened on the handle of the kettle. “Are you?”
He looked away from her, toward the window and the softly falling snow. “No.”
She closed her eyes, telling herself it was relief she felt at his answer. Only relief. “Well, then there’s no problem.”
“No, everything’s dandy.” His voice was as cool and detached as hers. “You don’t want romance, saves me the trouble. You don’t want promises, I don’t have to lie. We want each other in bed.” He reached for two mugs. “That keeps it simple.”
“I want you in bed.” Pleased with her casual tone, she took the mugs from him. “But if I didn’t like who you are, we wouldn’t have gotten there. I’ve wanted other men.”
In a deceptively calm gesture, he flicked her hair behind her ear. “Now you’re trying to make me mad.”
The fact that he couldn’t see how difficult it was for her to be so open, to keep things simple, made it easier. Oddly enough, this kind of openness seemed completely natural with him. “I’m trying to give you a compliment. I wouldn’t have come here last night, hoping you’d be here, if I hadn’t cared about you.”
“You came to drop off candlesticks.”
“You’re an idiot.” Amused at both of them, she poured coffee. She hadn’t realized sexual frankness could be fun. “You didn’t really buy that, did you?”
Intrigued, he took the mug she offered. “Yeah, I did.”
She sipped, smiled. “Sucker.”
“Maybe I don’t like sneaky, aggressive women.”
“Yes, you do. In fact, you’re hoping I’ll seduce you right now.”
“Think so?”
“I know so. But I want my coffee first.”
He watched her take another delicate sip. “Maybe I want my shirt back. You didn’t ask if you could borrow it.”
“Fine.” With one hand, she undid the buttons. “Take it.”
He nipped the coffee from her hand, set both mugs aside. Her smug smile had him scooping her off her feet. She was laughing and assaulting his ear as he carried her back down the hall. The front door swung open, letting in cold and blowing snow and a figure crusted with white.
Shane dragged off his cap and shook himself like a dog. “Hey.” Casually he kicked the door closed. “Your car’s buried to the wheel wells, Regan.”
“Oh.” With a fumbling hand,