A Moment of Bliss (27 page)

“My brother Trev was supposed to give the cabins a final inspection. We don't use them during the winter and in early spring they're rarely booked, so . . .” The clank of tools drifted down the hall. He was definitely putting on the tool belt.

She fanned faster.

“You might be our first guest up here this year.”

Carefully, she moved closer to the bathroom door. On the one hand, she did not need to see him being handy and stuff, doing things with wrenches and whatever. But on the other hand she couldn't go the entire rest of her life having not checked out the tool belt situation.

“This shouldn't take but a minute. Is everything else okay with the cabin? Or have you even had a chance to check?” The rough edge in his voice soothed her senses, like someone gently scratching her back.

Before she bothered to look inside, she leaned against the wall outside the bathroom to listen to him talk. “Everything else is fine. The cabin is great, you know, besides the toilet. I can't wait to take a walk and have a look around. See what else is here.” She rolled out the idea, hoping he'd offer suggestions, elaborate. Anything. As long as he kept talking.

“You checked in at a great time. Sunset is in just a little while, perfect for catching the colors during a stroll. You have a good view from your front porch, but the best view is at the main inn on the veranda, and you'd still have enough time to make it back here before dark.”

Her toes curled in her wedges. A long walk near sunset sounded ideal, or maybe it was the way he said it.

Finally ready, she leaned in the doorway to find Devlin, tool belt on, squatted down and leaned over, jeans pulled tight around thick thighs, messing with something on the wall behind the toilet.

Wrong. She wasn't ready at all.

Who had legs like that? Long and solid looking, like he could hold a girl's weight if he had her up against the—oh good gosh, she was being a perv.

“The supply line is loose. Tightening it up while I'm down here.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh. Hey.” He jerked up, probably not expecting her to be all up in the doorway while he worked on a toilet.

She should say something. Quick. Before this got weird.

“So . . .” What to say, what to say?

Her line of sight, and therefore thought, was full of Devlin and blue jeans and
Wow
, and toilets. None of it made for appropriate small talk.

“Food.” The word fell out of her mouth.

Of course she came up with food. “I have my own kitchen in the cabin, but I doubt I'll have time to make it to a grocery store today. Doesn't the main inn have a restaurant?” She knew the inn had a restaurant; she'd already picked out the first thing she wanted to order from the online menu. And possibly the second and third.

“We have an outstanding restaurant. Hold that thought.” He leaned over again, doing something with a wrench that did delicious things to the muscles in his shoulders and back. Masking nothing, the thin gray T-shirt he wore clung to him, highlighting the dip of his spine, making her fingers itch to touch.

They were supposed to be talking about food. Her neck burned and she fanned it quickly, while he was distracted.

As bleak as her sex life already was, for over half a year now her desire for anything had gone ice cold. With no interest, she hadn't even looked twice at a guy. She hadn't read a book past page two, gone shopping except for this trip, or done anything other than work.

Nothing sent that zip of excitement through her body; nothing held her attention for longer than five minutes, so she'd buried herself in her job, more so than before.

Then that had fallen apart too. Her creativity, the flair that made her one of the top execs at the agency—gone.

But now, awareness danced across her skin. Her limbs tingled with anticipation, like when she was coming up with the perfect pitch for a sales campaign or seeing a gorgeous guy in well-fit blue jeans, bent over and doing some plumbing.

“There.” Once he shoved the wrench in its spot on the belt, he stood with a groan.

The belt sat low on his hips, accentuating a narrow waist and flat stomach.

Maybe her desire wasn't as cold as she'd thought. Maybe she'd merely lacked the proper stimulus. Because right now, every part of her body was on high alert.

Normally, the first twinge of enjoying life was followed immediately by a pang of regret. A knot of guilt in the center of her chest. Her therapist said the reaction was normal when dealing with loss.

Normal didn't make it any more bearable.

Anna waited for the pang, but nothing came.

“Do you mind?” Devlin asked.

He'd caught her gawking. Of course he had. She was being so obvious, Pluto would notice. Her sophistication and manners had gone right out the window, and all it took was blue eyes and blue jeans.

Wasn't there a song about that? She'd have to look it up later. Except she didn't have her laptop and her phone was restrictive use only. Dear God, she was word vomiting in her head again.

His rumbling chuckle brought her back. “Is it okay?” he asked again.

When she looked up, he was indicating toward the sink. As in, did she mind if he washed his hands.

“
Oh
. No, no. Go ahead.”

He washed up and she tried to look away, she really did. But she couldn't.

“I highly recommend you try the restaurant,” he finally said, turning to her, thumbs hooked into the tool belt.

He had to be doing it on purpose. No way was anyone this attractive, this potent, without actually working his butt off to be so.

“Not only tonight though. You need to eat there for breakfast, without question, and lunch too. As a matter of fact, I can recommend a grocery store for quick food on hand, but you'll want to dine with us at Bradley's pretty much any opportunity you get. You won't regret it.” Another smile, the corners of his mouth curling up like a promise.

Anna found herself leaning against the frame of the door for support. “You make a convincing case.”

“I try.” He moved to get past her, and he was inches away before she realized she blocked his path.

“Sorry.” She backed into the hall until the heel of her shoes hit the baseboard.

“Don't be.” He followed, stopping so he stood right in front of her.

Silence lingered, filling the cabin with a quiet tension. Electric.

Something was happening, though she was lost as to what exactly.

When she was ten years old, her father took her to Caesar's Head, and they'd gone way out on the big rock. They didn't go to the very edge, but Anna had still felt the pull of vertigo. The downdraft of the mountain winds. The call of the edge, luring her over.

The exact same sensation blew over her standing in the small hallway with Devlin.

He didn't hide his slow study of her. His gaze, like a lover's touch, brushed her face, down her neck, pausing in the vee of her shirt. Heat spread out from the point of his focus, slipping down, between her legs, making her squeeze them together.

She knew that look. It had to be identical to the one she'd given him while he was crouched in the bathroom floor. The difference was he hadn't been aware of her hungry stare, but good Lord, was she ever aware of his.

Too much time had gone by since a man had looked at her like that. The needle-toed dancers were back at her neck, twirling and tapping in tiny hot steps, her whole body lighting up.

If, with one look, Devlin had this effect on her, what would happen when he touched her?