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©2006 - 2007 Lilly Cain

Coming Soon

“I must be insane,” Becca muttered to herself. She stood, her hands on her hips surveying the boxes stacked against every wall of her small new rooms. She’d stomped off the day before and called the shipping company, promising a huge bonus if they could get her moved by the next day and bam! Here she was. Perhaps I ought to sign up for anger management courses. Her determination to move in had been entirely based on that damn Kevin.

Twenty-seven boxes, a queen sized mattress, box spring and frame, and a door to a kitchen that wasn’t quite finished. She didn’t even have a chair. All the furnishings she’d bought so far were for the inn proper. Her furniture in New York had been rented with the apartment. It was possible that she didn’t even have any sheets, or at least, she had no idea where they would be – the packers hadn’t marked the boxes very well, and Susanne apparently hadn’t noticed.

She reached for her purse, drawing out a notepad and pen. Writing quickly she made notes: sheets, pillows, blankets, food, disposable dishes, garbage bags. Why didn’t I think about this last night? But oh no, I had to move in today and show that idiot Kevin who was boss. Never mind the thoughts that had kept her awake all last night. Never mind that she would be alone in the house.

“Well, looky here, getting cozy already, are you?”

Speak of the devil.

Kevin stood in the doorway, leaning his tall body against the wooden frame. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and gazed at the mess she had to call home.

“They dumped everything anywhere they could. I can’t find anything,” she grumbled.

“Poor baby. No friendly ghost to poke its head inside the boxes and tell you which is which?”

She could hear the repressed laughter in his voice. It was sexy, but not enough to make her stop wanting to deck him. She was trying very hard not to think about ghosts right now.

“If you’re going to hang around here, you can at least give me a hand,” she commanded. Walking to her bedroom door, she called back to him. “They didn’t set the bed up, and I can’t move it by myself.”

He moved toward her, and she felt her pulse quicken. Resolutely she turned away, moving to the opposite side of the bedroom. She’d had enough of his little games, and wasn’t about to leave herself open to another one of his wicked kisses.
The fact that she fully expected him to kiss her was unsettling.

He moved into the room, and bent down on one knee to check out the metal bed frame, lying in pieces on the floor.

“No headboard?” he asked casually, leaning back to look up at her. He looks delicious. She felt the skin on her cheeks flush. Looking down on him at this angle, she was reminded of the way his face could change with a boyish grin, altering his face from handsome to devastating. At the moment, he simply looked serious.

“No, not yet. I’m thinking of getting some antique oak pieces, but for now, this’ll do. I’ve even got some plastic milk cartons somewhere for bedside tables.” She found herself trying to bring the laughter out onto his face again.

“Now that’s classy.” He turned away and left her feeling oddly disappointed.

Becca chewed her lower lip slowly as she watched him set the pieces of the bed frame together and tighten the bolts. Realizing that she had feelings for Kevin hadn’t helped her decide what to do about them, not in the slightest. She admitted they were there, as she had to admit that she was afraid of the house and she was afraid of the local doctor.

She should be attracted to the doctor. He was an intelligent man, strong and charismatic. They had a lot in common-their love of travel, fine foods, new cultures, good music-but instead he terrified her. She never wanted to see him again. There was no doubt now in her mind that he frightened her on purpose, or that he could be something a lot nastier than a little odd.

But how could she have a relationship with Kevin that seemed based entirely on the physical reaction that sparked between them? Not that she couldn’t appreciate the finer qualities of that – she’d been alone a long time. And Kevin was intelligent, kind, strong. But…he still compared her to the last woman in his life, and he couldn’t bring himself to support her belief in ghosts. How could they ever get along?

“You going to help me here, or just watch?” Kevin waved his hand in front of her face. Had he been talking? Oops.

“Of course. I’m just thinking about where the best place is to put the bed.”

“Becca,” he said firmly but with a hint of humor creeping into his voice. “There is only one place to put the bed. This room is too small to arrange more than one way.”

“True. Well, let’s do it.” She reached for one end of the box spring propped against the wall. He grabbed the other end and they flipped it down onto the frame with little effort.
“Watch it now,” he told her. “The mattress is a lot heavier.”

“I know, I know,” she grumbled back at him. She grabbed the end of the full mattress and struggled to move it, not waiting for his help. Suddenly the whole thing went over and she went down with it, twisting to lie sprawled on the bed instead of falling to the floor. Still, the fall knocked her breath out and she lay gasping, looking at the newly painted ceiling.

“You okay?” Kevin asked, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

She turned to look at him, and felt an undeniable pull of attraction. It slid through her body, bringing her total awareness of every tingle of her skin. He was staring at her, his hazel eyes wide and his face flushed. One hand reached toward her. She clasped it and he pulled her into a half-sitting position, legs still stretched across the mattress.

It was three o’clock on a Monday afternoon. The inn was full of workmen, and she was lying on an unmade bed wanting a man she had wanted to strangle only moments ago. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Becca…God, you’re beautiful.” He leaned down and stroked her hair, his fingers tangling in her long curls. His body spoke silently of the tension it held within – his jaw clenched and the cords of muscle in his forearms stretched taut.

* * *

Full-blown lust. That was the only way to describe the sensation flooding his body. God, she looked like his favorite dreams transformed into life. She sat still on the mattress, one hand in his. Her soft, white cotton t-shirt clung like a film to her curves, and her yellow colored shorts reminded him of butter, good enough to eat. Her hair was a riot of glorious curls around her. Her face was flushed, both from her earlier frustration and her reaction to the words he had uttered.

Was he an idiot for acting this way? Probably, but if she didn’t say something soon, he was going to lose all control.

To hell with it – she was too beautiful not to at least kiss. He lowered himself to the bed, never taking his eyes away from hers. As he sat he held her gaze and leaned slowly forward, tilting his head to slant his lips against hers. He couldn’t bring himself to shutter those light blue eyes from his view, and he watched as they filled with a need to match his own.

His arms rose to circle her, his hands moving of their own volition to let go of hers and entwining themselves in her hair. Still her eyes stayed open, and he deepened their kiss, running his tongue over her lips and separating them. Finally, he delved inside her mouth, tasting her sweetness. As he did she made a soft sound deep in her throat, and her eyes drifted closed. Was it surrender? It was so much more, he realized as she moved her own hands to run up his sides, stroking his back and coming to clutch at his shoulders.

For the briefest moment, he remembered his crew, still at work throughout the house. Then, as she pulled closer to him, pressing upward against his body and striving to pull his waist closer, everything was forgotten except her. The past few months had driven him mad – she wanted him, she didn’t, he wanted her, and he didn’t – now there was only blessed sensation.

He lowered his hands to the edge of her t-shirt and slid underneath. He reached up to caress the fullness of her breasts, but she stopped him. She took long enough to give him a jolt of fear that she might want to stop. He watched her face but she smiled that heart-melting shy smile and sat back to pull the material up and over her head.

His body tightened in reaction. She was perfect. Her skin was pale cream, smooth, flawless. She wore a lace underwire bra that cupped her breasts like offerings. It was impossible to resist. He lowered his mouth to the edge of the lace, dragging his lips over her skin. His hands found the clasp in the back and he released her, opened her tender flesh to his roving mouth.

Her nipples stood proudly erect, and he felt his own body stiffen in reaction, blood thundering through his veins as he struggled to take the moment slowly. When he sucked one nipple into his mouth he heard her moan, a low, powerful sound that God must have given women to drive men crazy. Between that, the scent of her, and the feeling of her supple skin under his hands and mouth, he might lose his mind.

When her hands stroked lower to rub at his thighs and the bulge in his jeans, he knew he was lost. A deep groan resonated in his throat. He raised his face to hers once more, and kissed her. As he held her he lowered her to the bed, and twisted to slide his own legs onto the mattress as well. He levered on top of her, and rested part of his weight on her. He was never going to last if he didn’t take this slowly, and by God did he want it to last.

“Kevin,” she half-sighed, half-moaned his name. “Take me, Goddamnit!”

“Shh.” He kissed her, possessing her mouth more roughly now, nipping her lips with his teeth. “I want to touch you, taste you.”

Her moans were reckless now, and she squirmed under his body. He raised himself up on one knee and reached for the button of her shorts. She gripped at his t-shirt, pulling it from the waist of his jeans. He took a moment to strip it off, and was rewarded as her fingers stroked his chest and stomach, then moved to attempt to open his own pants’ button. He grinned and chased her away. Her pout is so cute. But he wanted to see her naked first, to open her and taste her. If he stripped off totally now, there’s be no time for that. His jeans were sort of the last barrier, and he was keeping them until the last moment. For just the tiniest moment, he hesitated. Only yesterday he had plotted to push this woman out of the house he wanted for himself. Then her hands pulled at him again and he was undone.

He unzipped her shorts and pulled them off, raising her hips from the mattress as he did so. Good lord, sheer, white lace panties. He was never going to recover after this.