Snowbound with a Stranger (4 page)

Upstairs were two guest bedrooms—chilly as hell but supplied with plenty of warm blankets and closets full of extra clothes. Downstairs, besides the open kitchen and living area and the larger of the two bathrooms, was the master bedroom, a modestly sized space with a generous brass bed and fireplace of its own. Behind the kitchen a well-stocked pantry that held shelf after shelf of canned soup, stew, vegetables and fruit, along with enough rice, cereal, pasta, soymilk, coffee, tea and juice to last them a decade.

Briefly Dannie imagined actually being trapped here with Lee for ten years. She didn’t know which alternate reality would require such a ridiculous outcome, but still, standing for a moment between the bedroom and the living room, she entertained the thought. When his voice from the kitchen interrupted her musing, she was actually disappointed.

“Do you want to get ready for bed?”

Momentarily confused, Dannie pictured the two of them in the master bedroom, sinking back against the dark comforter, Lee’s body covering hers, the contact of his lips against her—

“Dannie?” He was standing right beside her. A nearly palpable heat radiated off his skin.

Her fingernails dug into the sensitive palms of her hands. “Bed?”

“Everything will be more difficult in the dark.”

She stared at him and he stared back. His almost imperceptible intake of breath shifted the current of air, brought her half an inch closer.

She stepped back, moving away to the living room window and pushing a plush red curtain aside. The cold from a gust of wind beyond the pane made her shudder. Outside was nothing but white. She turned to him. “Are we safe in here?”

“Completely.” Lee headed into the kitchen and crouched beside a cabinet. A cascade of Tupperware lids exploded onto the floor when he opened the door. “Good God, man, why is Stevens such a slob?” He crammed the plastic back onto the shelf and continued rummaging.

“I notice you don’t clean it up, though.”

“What, and enable him? No.”

Dannie smiled. “So there are no bears lurking around or anything? The roof won’t collapse?”

Lee began stacking items on the granite countertop: extra flashlights, batteries, long candles in thick glass containers, matches. “This house is built like a fortress. And now, we have light.”

“You really think we should put on pajamas?”

“Only if you want to.” He lit two candles, placing one on the counter and another on an end table next to the couch.

“Wait. I don’t have pajamas.”

He stood in the fading light with a still-smoking match in his hand and held her gaze for a moment too long, as though considering the possibility of a pajama-free evening. Dannie became very aware of the cold window draft against her heated skin.

Lee busied himself with rearranging the supplies. “I thought you might like to look in the closets upstairs before it gets too dark.”

“Okay.” Dannie moved away from the chill of the window and toward the staircase, edging carefully around him. She paused, her hand on the railing. “What about you?”

“I’ll find something.”

She nodded and started up the stairs, but then stopped and looked back at him. “And then what do we do?”

“What do you mean?” The stormy outside light was darkening behind him, replaced by soft candle-and firelight.

“What do we do all night?” As soon as she said it, a few ideas popped into her head. She blushed.

Lee had the good manners not to smile. “Just hang out, I guess.” He turned toward the master bedroom. “See you in a minute.”

Chapter Five

In Stevens’s room, Lee found a pair of old black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt, more or less his size. It wasn’t the first time he’d borrowed his buddy’s clothes, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

If Lee were the type of man to express gratitude freely, he might thank Stevens someday for that fact, for being such a steadfast friend. For sticking with him through the nightmare of these last ten years.

Come to think of it, why wasn’t he that kind of man?

Lee, above anyone, should know how precarious life could be, how fleeting. How the people you loved and took for granted could be taken from you in the time it took to snap a finger.

One moment you wake up and the sun is shining. The next your whole fucking city is drowning in smoke and ash, and half the guys you knew from the neighborhood firehouse are gone.

One day your wife has a headache. The next she’s sick as hell, fading away to a place you can’t reach her.

Next time he saw that skinny bastard Stevens he would tell him straight-out how goddamn glad he was to know him.

In the living room, Dannie sat waiting for him on a chair beside the fire. She wore a pair of plaid flannel pajamas about six sizes too big for her.

She looked like somebody’s frumpy grandpa.

Except that all he wanted in the world right this minute was to get his hands inside those pajamas and on to her skin.

Was there a term for that?

GILF?

Lee chuckled to himself.

“What?” Dannie set to work retying her ponytail and eyed him warily.

“Nothing.” He sat down on the couch across from her. “Clothes a little roomy?”

“I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.” She leaned down to adjust the length of the pants.

“Do I dare to eat a peach?” He said it without thinking and when the double meaning sank into both of their brains simultaneously, squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Sorry.”

Dannie busied herself with rolling up her sleeves. “What would poor Mr. Prufrock say about this pickle we’re in?”

The looseness of the pajama top extended to its V-neck collar, which plunged slightly lower on Dannie’s freckled chest than she probably would have liked. She pulled it upward self-consciously before she sat back in the chair.

“Your feet are bare.” She pointed to where Lee had propped them on the coffee table.

“I hate socks.”

“What is there to hate about socks?” Despite the heat from the fireplace, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

I know how to warm you up.
The thought rose up unbidden, as did other parts of him, seeing the way her breasts moved beneath the thin flannel. He bit down on the words to keep from saying them aloud, and stood. “There’re blankets in the closet. Extras. Let me get you one.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile that didn’t help the situation at all. It brought attention to her mouth. And made him think of how she would taste. He clenched his teeth and hastened to the closet.

Two blankets lay folded on the top shelf. Lee brought them back in the living room, shook one open and warmed it before the fire. Then he leaned in to drape it over her legs.

As he adjusted the fabric over her, the bare skin of his knuckles grazed her thigh.

Her eyes shot up to meet his. They went liquid for a moment. It was all he could do to draw back and return to his seat a safe distance away.

“Thank you.” Her voice was dangerously quiet.

The fire crackled in front of them, giving off a delicious heat. Lee covered himself with the other blanket, glad to conceal the all-too-obvious impact of her simple eye contact.

He’d been in a near-perpetual state of arousal since he met her on the trail, which was saying something, because it was damn cold out there. It was going to be one hell of a long weekend at this rate.

Dannie cleared her throat. “You didn’t, um…you didn’t answer my question. About the socks.”

“Socks?”

“Why do you hate them?”

“Oh.” Lee settled back into the couch, grateful to be back on neutral ground. “They interfere with the freedom of my feet.”

“Your feet require freedom?”

He smiled. “Think about it. All day long, trapped inside shoes. Slamming against the hard pavement. Running from place to place in the city. They get a little sulky.”

The firelight picked up a line of soft freckles across her nose, and a dimple on one side when she smiled.

“You should take your socks off too. Trust me. You’ll like it.” Lee’s chest constricted as he watched her.

She shrugged. “Okay.” She slid her wool socks off, balled them up and threw them across the room.

Her feet were pale, her toenails painted a very dark red.

“Better, right?”

Heat emanated from the fireplace and warmed the soles of their feet. Dannie leaned back against the couch and stretched her toes toward the fire. The arch of her foot was almost too much to endure.

Lee forced his eyes away and stared into the fire.

Blue flames leaped over the crumbling cinders, devouring the wood, reducing it inch by inch to ash.

What he loved, he could lose at any moment. Everything that mattered could at any moment be taken away.

Why then shouldn’t he take what he wanted while he could?

He found Dannie’s gaze and met it.

* * *

Absorbing the heat of the fire, Dannie realized something. She actually felt relaxed. She was trapped in a cabin in a snowstorm with a stranger and what she should be feeling was fear, or at the very least, concern. But she felt relaxed.

Absurdly, dressed from ankle to shoulder in someone else’s discarded flannel, Dannie’s body seemed to tingle.

Once, when she was little, she’d fallen through the ice of a lake. The freezing water had soaked through her clothes, drenched her, until she herself felt frozen. Like a snowman, she’d thought at the time. A Snowgirl.

Her mother had rushed her home and into a warm bath. All that heat permeating the ice, melting her, softening her—it had almost hurt at first. It had hurt, and the hurting had helped her know she was still alive, and she had welcomed it.

It felt like that now.

The warmth of the fireplace. The thrumming energy that emanated from the long line of Lee’s legs, his torso, his face. The heat of his eyes, which were staring into hers.

She was thirty-eight years old. She had never in her life had a one-night stand with anybody. She was divorced. She hated the job she was supposed to love. She wanted to sleep with Lee.

Searching the room, her eyes landed gratefully on a familiar red box. “Hey.” She rose and grabbed it off the shelf. “Want to play Scrabble?”

He grinned. “If you like getting your ass kicked in, sure.”

“What’s that? A challenge? No one’s ever beaten me, I’ll have you know.” Dannie opened the box and set up the board on the coffee table.

“First time for everything.” Lee lowered himself to the floor across from her.

She made the mistake of glancing up. Firelight flickered in his green eyes. A shiver raced down her spine, and she set to work shaking up the letters.

“Pick one.” She handed him the bag.

He chose a
B.
She picked a pathetic
T
and he went first.

Moments later he laid down his first word.

Scent
.

Dannie nodded. “Not bad. Fourteen points.”

Lee’s eyes on her were steady. “Raspberries,” he said. “Why is that?”

“What?”

“You smell like raspberries.”

A flush rose up from the core of Dannie’s body. “I do?” When had he gotten close enough to…smell her?

“Yes. I like it.”

The flush spread to her cheeks. “Um. Thanks. It’s my…hand lotion, I guess. It cheers me up.”

“Well.” Lee reached into the bag for replacement letters. “Me too.” He placed his tiles carefully on the stand. “Your turn.”

For a moment she couldn’t take her eyes away from his face. It transmitted something to her, but she wasn’t sure what. All she knew was that the heat from the fireplace seemed to be spreading throughout her body. She looked down at her tiles.

Chest
.

Carefully, avoiding Lee’s eyes, Dannie refilled her letters. “I noticed it about you right away. In the parking lot. I know that’s silly.” She risked a glance at him. “How broad your chest was.”

Lee nodded, his expression unreadable. He placed his tiles on the board.

Eyes
.

In the silence a log cracked and fell into the fire.

“They’re beautiful, Dannie.”

She stared at him. A long quiet unfolded over the room.

Lee reached over for a handful of peanuts. “What brought you to this trip?”

Her eyes rested on his fingers. He had big hands. Strong hands. She almost felt them, against her skin.

“I…I don’t know. I wanted to get away.”

“From the city?”

“I guess.”

“You grew up there, right?”

“Yeah. Bensonhurst.”

“Tough lady.”

She smiled. “How about you?”

“Carroll Gardens. Before it became Yuppieville.”

“Ah. You’re old-school.”

“Deeply.”

His hair was very short. The kind of buzz cut men get when their hair is going. It looked absurdly sexy on him, the gold of it catching the green of his eyes in the firelight. He had a bit of blond beard stubble coming in too. The combination was frankly intoxicating.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this attracted to a man. Maybe never. The thought terrified her. She returned to her game pieces.

What she found there was not reassuring. And yet it was the only word she had. She set the word down.

Scared
.

He looked across the board at her. Even from that distance she could feel him breathing. As though the energy coursing through him was somehow connected to her.

What had it been? Ten hours? Ten hours ago she had first seen him climbing out of his car in the parking lot. It couldn’t be possible to want someone this badly so quickly.

But she did. She did want him.

He watched her from across the Scrabble board. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t even move toward her.

Every nerve in her body began to sing. “I don’t know you at all.”

“That’s true. I don’t know you either.”

“We’re alone here.”

“Very.”

“I’ve been a straight arrow all my life. Do you know that?” Dannie shook her head. “Good student. Married my high school sweetheart. Stayed faithful for fifteen long years, though it nearly killed me. He left three years ago. I don’t know the first thing about how to do this.”