Sweet Memories (6 page)

arms around his neck and poured all her emotion into the kiss. For a brief few seconds she wondered just whom she was kissing—Mitch Johnson or Michael Crawford, III?

Chapter Eleven – The Temperature is Hot and Rising by Vonnie Davis

The woman had a mouth made for kissing. A man could live happy the rest of his life feasting on her sweet mouth. She was slowly driving him mad. A moan escaped from somewhere deep inside her. In response, he gently bit her lower lip and soothed it with his tongue.

Her wide eyes hazed with passion. “Mi…Mitch,” she murmured against his lips.

Did she say, My Mitch? Had he heard her correctly? He fisted his hands in her hair and blazed a trail of kisses down the side of her face and neck. “You’d better stop me while you can. Tell me to stop, Candy.”

She shook her head, her eyes hiding her emotions. What was she thinking? Was she afraid to say no?

“What I'd really like…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed. Slowly she unzipped his jacket and tugged off his knitted cap. “Pick up that wood and stoke the fire in the fireplace. Then take me to the bedroom and stoke mine.”

Did she mean it? His hands slipped under her shirt and found warm skin. Her lips parted as she leaned forward and bit his earlobe. Don’t analyze it, man. Just take her to bed. Slaking his needs—needs she’d stirred to a fevered pitch—was certainly how he wanted to spend the day. The entire day, because once wouldn’t be enough.

With his eyes locked on hers, he stepped back. “If you’re serious, my bedroom is…”

“I know where your bedroom is.” Her eyes were shadowed, full of mystery and emotion he didn’t understand.

His hands shook, and he clenched them on his hips. Yes, he wanted her. In some ways he always had. He frowned at the realization. Mitch had been fifteen, a skinny kid who hadn’t had his growth spurt yet, the last time he saw Candy. His hair was clipped short and tight the way his father liked it. Yet, even at that young age, there’d been something about Candy that called to him. When he visited her in the kitchen, there was a rightness about their time together.

He couldn’t put a label on it. As he stood in front of the adult Candy with her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes heavy-lidded with passion, he couldn’t describe how the little Candy Wright he'd known so long ago made him feel. Needy. And hell, with her here in his house, she brought it all back. The admission scared the beejeesus out of him.

If she knew who he really was, would she still want him?

“Don’t start anything you don’t plan on finishing. And don’t crawl into my bed if you’re going to regret it later.”

“No promises. No regrets. And definitely no entanglements.” She stepped out of his arms and headed for his bedroom. “Works for me.”

For some reason her remarks grated on his nerves. Bugged the hell out of him. He stalked into the living room and stoked the fireplace, filling it with wood. His gaze drifted in the direction of the bedroom. “Works for me,” he growled in a mocking tone. She was waiting for him. Was she taking off her clothes? He hardened at the thought. Would she be snuggled under his sheets, waiting for him to come to her?

Major nuzzled his hand. He scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Well, how does it feel to have a master who’s nothing more than a booty call?”

The dog whined.

****

Murky afternoon light filtered through the windows of the bedroom when Candy woke. The snow wasn't coming down as heavily. Was the storm over? She stretched under the sheets and comforter, her naked skin sliding decadently across the smoothness. The shower was running, and Mitch was singing. Somehow it all felt right, her being here in his big bed with her skin still humming from his touch, and her system singing its own sultry love song.

He’d come to her like a man possessed, almost as if he were angry. Then he turned tender, his sweetness nearly breaking her heart. She’d never been loved like that, as if she were someone precious. For this one morning, she needed to feel cherished. She needed to feel like someone truly cared.

Mitch had made love to her four times. She stretched again, lifting the sheet to cover her mouth as she grinned with feminine satisfaction.

The things that man did to her. Closing her eyes, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks. She wasn’t aggressive. Normally she dated a man for weeks before sleeping with him, so why… A frown wrinkled her brow. Something about Mitch was different. Familiar, or so it seemed when she caved in to the need to be closer to him.

The shower turned off, but the singing continued. He had a nice voice. The man had a nice everything. She just needed to focus on the fact that this was all temporary. A sexual interlude in the middle of a raging blizzard. How foolish am I for wanting something more permanent?

When the bedroom door opened, Major shot in around Mitch and hopped onto the bed. The dog gave her one canine kiss before turning around twice and flopping onto the comforter with a contented sigh.

A towel hugged Mitch’s waist. He was lean and well-muscled. Those six-pack abs weren’t airbrushed on. She knew all too well the power behind them. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked with hers, and leaned down for a kiss.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, affectionate.

“Hey, yourself.”

He nuzzled her neck, his wet hair tickling her. “We missed lunch. Hungry?” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Typical male. As soon

as the bottom half of your anatomy is taken care of, thoughts move above the belt.”

His hand rubbed over her breast. “And just how many typical males am I going to have to fend off to keep you for myself?” His teeth grazed the column of her neck.

Fear crept into the bed and snuggled between them. “Mitch, we said no promises, no regrets, and for sure, no entanglements.” Her life was in New York. “I’ll be leaving as soon as the roads are clear. You know that.”

He stood and went to the other side of the bed, yanked his jeans off the floor, and stepped into them. The zipper echoed in the silent room. “So what the hell was this? Just some meaningless fu—”

“Don’t use that tone with me. Or that kind of language, either.” She sat up in the bed and tugged the sheets around her neck. “It was what it was.”

He gritted his teeth. “Maybe you could be more specific.”

What did he want from her? Her heart clenched in her chest. They lived two different lifestyles hundreds of miles apart. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “It was an amazing afternoon between two consenting adults.”

He tugged on a turtleneck and snagged a pair of clean socks from a drawer. He put on his socks and boots in silence. “Never figured you for a user, Candy.” Standing, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Twelve – Trouble in Paradise

Candy flinched at the words Mitch hurled at her. “Never figured you for a user, Candy.” If he hadn’t slammed the bedroom door when he stormed out, she might have responded impetuously, shouted something just as hurtful. Something she would have regretted.

She hadn’t risen to a high position in the corporate world by overreacting emotionally. Her psychology classes taught her to illuminate, evaluate, and communicate. And that's just what she was going to do.

Using every pillow on the bed to prop herself up against the headboard, she took a deep breath.

Mitch hadn’t liked her flippant attitude. And it wasn’t that she didn’t care… If she let herself, she’d care more than was smart—or safe. Together, they’d been spectacular. But they barely knew one another. Hell, they’d spent more time sniping at each other than cooing and sighing.

It had to be loneliness. Out here in the woods, isolated and leading a rustic lifestyle, he’d latched onto her as a respite from his solitary existence.

Her amateur psychoanalysis made perfect sense. She grinned. Now she needed to test it on him and see if she could smooth out the wrinkles in their temporary situation.

After digging through his drawers and closet, she slipped into fresh backwoodsman apparel. Another flannel shirt, this time green, and a pair of black sweats.

Padding barefoot to the bedroom door, she inched it open and listened. Nothing. She headed down the hall to her room but stopped when she spotted him at his computer.

Before she could say a word, he killed the monitor and stood. “Storm’s let up for a while. Another heavy band is coming through in an hour or so.”

Funny, her heart had dropped at the thought of the storm ending, opening the door for her to leave. It rebounded when she heard there would be more snow. Maybe she should analyze her own loneliness issues before diagnosing his.

He brushed past her. “I’m going out to haul in a couple more trees I felled last spring. We may need more firewood than I have split.”

She followed him. “Can I help?”

Stopping abruptly, he turned. “Yeah. Maybe it would be good for us to get out of the house for a while.” His gaze locked with hers and his jaw worked, as if an apology fought to free itself.

She imagined how he felt. He’d snapped out those cutting words in the bedroom without thinking them through first. Just let his emotions drive him. Where did that come from? Her training pointed to the possibility of a deep scar somewhere in his past.

“Let’s get out of here while we can,” she said. “We’ll talk about…things… later. When we're back inside.”

He nodded and looked away. Turning, he put a hand on the side of her neck. “Sorry, Candy. I didn't mean it.”

“I know.” But they still would be having a long chat later. He wasn't getting off that easily.

It took five minutes to outfit her in a voluminous jacket, waterproof pants, hand-knit mittens, hat, and scarf. She could barely make it out the door wearing the four pair of wool socks that made his boots less floppy.

Mitch shoveled a path to the garage and hauled open the door. “Wait here.” He went inside and manually opened the roll-up door.

Light flooded the space as she peered inside. Tools and gadgets and gas-powered lawn implements.

The roar of a motor startled her. Mitch swung his leg over the seat of a four-wheeler. Major barked and jumped excitedly, circling the vehicle as Mitch drove it out of the garage.

“Hop on.” He grinned at her and patted the seat behind him.

She’d never done this before, but it looked like fun. Waddling over, she put her hands on his shoulders and eased a leg over. He helped her place her feet on the back pegs, and with a roar, they were off.

It was beautiful. He'd chosen a perfect plot of land to call home. His property was thick with trees, and for a short way, they followed alongside a river. He wove his way through the forest as she held on with her arms around his waist, her body pressed to his.

When he leaned back and took them speeding down a hill, she giggled, feeling as excited as Major. The dog rushed ahead, stopped to dig and sniff, caught up again, and repeated the process.

Too soon, they stopped at a clearing where a dozen tree trunks lay piled in a pyramid. He turned off the engine.

She got off, her legs tingling from the vibration of the motor.

Mitch hefted a thick chain from the box at the back of the ATV and trudged through a snowdrift to the pile of trees. Wrapping the chain around one, he rolled it off the pile, and then wrapped another length of chain around the second.

He seemed so competent. Never hesitating, just doing what needed to be done. Candy admired that. In her life, every plan had to be checked and double-checked before taking action. She could learn a lot from this man.

After hooking the chain to the four-wheeler, he said, “Keep Major by you. Move back a ways, too.”

She called the dog, and when he came, slid her hand into his collar. “Let’s go see what’s over here.”

The dog walked along beside her without trying to tear her arm off. “Good boy.” Who would have thought she’d become pals with this slobbering beast?

The motor gunned as Mitch eased the vehicle forward, hauling the two logs behind him. He turned off the engine and walked back to check the chains.

“That you, Mitch?” a voice called from behind them. Major barked and tugged to get free.

“You can let him go,” Mitch said. He held up a hand in greeting as Major ran toward the voice. “Hey.”

Candy hadn't noticed the small, dark house tucked into the woods. On the porch, a tall man stood, wearing bib overalls and sporting a graying military-style haircut.

The man shouted, “Come over for a drink?”

Mitch cupped his hands around his mouth. “Can’t, Jeb. Gotta put up some wood.”

“Next time,” the man answered, petting Major. Mitch glanced her way. “Let's go.”

“Who was that?” she asked as she climbed on behind him. “Jeb Nobell, my neighbor.”