Unsafe Haven (14 page)

What’s wrong with me?

“Stevie—” She raised a hand, dropped it, but couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Look, Wendy.” He turned his cap in his hands. “I know you don’t think of me the same way I think of you. I know you’ve got someone else on your mind. But you might want to let that go and try seeing what’s right in front of your nose.” With a nod, he set his cap squarely on his head. The front door swung shut behind him as he walked out.

Denn washed the grime from his hands, reached for a towel, and hesitated an inch from the fluffy, pale green cotton hanging from a chrome ring in Kendall’s cute little bathroom. “She’d kill me and hide the body,” he mused aloud as he wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans. Surely the feminine, lace-edged towel wasn’t meant for anything but show.

“Did you say something?” Kendall joined him at the sink. She eyed his damp hands. “Need a towel? Use the green one.” She pointed to the fluff.

“I—it seemed too nice. Like it’s meant for company.” Denn waved his hands around to finish drying them. “Anyway, I’m not company. Right?” He mugged at her, and she pushed his shoulder, edging him from the sink.

“Get out of my way. I need to clean up. And you’re more than ‘company.’ Is that what you were angling for?”

“But of course.” He dropped a kiss on her head and started for the kitchen. “Want some dinner?”

“I’m not very hungry, not after the big lunch you brought me. Can we wait a while? Maybe eat around seven?” She had entered the kitchen and stood in front of an open cupboard. “Boy, I’m going to have a lot of space left over. I hadn’t realized my earthly possessions were so sparse.” She placed a short stack of dinner plates in the cupboard and turned to give him a rueful shrug.

“There’s nothing wrong with starting over, Kendall. You did the right thing, leaving Oregon fast.” Denn moved to her side and gave her a brief snuggle.

For a moment she leaned against him, her body warm and welcoming, before drawing away with a nod. “You’re right.” She fingered a salt shaker in the shape of a cocker spaniel. “But I should have planned better. I left so many things behind, important things. And I grabbed the dumbest junk to pack and take with me.” Her finger poked the spaniel and sent it sliding across the countertop. “Like this silly thing. My mother collected salt and pepper shakers. She had some gorgeous sets, and I left them all behind and brought these ridiculous dogs.”

He picked up the pepper shaker and examined it. The sloppy paint job and chip marks labeled it as cheap, but the shaker had a charm of its own. “It’s kind of cute. Did you have a cocker spaniel when you were a kid?”

“As a matter of fact, we did, when I was about four. I named him Boofer. My mother came up with the name ‘Buford,’ but when I repeated it, I couldn’t pronounce it very well, so Boofer stuck.” She retrieved the salt shaker and held it up. Her eyes softened as she stared at it. “Stupid thing even looks like Boofer.”

“That’s why you grabbed this set and didn’t bother with the others. You had a subconscious need to save a memory of your mother.” He pushed their shakers together until the two china dogs appeared to be rubbing snouts. “See, they like each other. They’re happy you brought them with you.”

“You’re goofy,” she snickered, but hastily wiped away a lone tear. The smile she aimed at him wobbled. Gently, he took the shaker from her fingers and placed both of them on the stovetop, giving her a few moments to collect herself.

An hour later, the apartment looked great. Kendall hadn’t bought a lot in New Mina, so her rooms didn’t appear crowded or cluttered. A floor lamp, a low occasional table, and a few framed prints gave it a homey feel.

Denn carried empty boxes outside and piled them next to the trash bin. He’d break them down later. In the living area, Kendall relaxed on an overstuffed loveseat with her feet curled beneath her. She smiled when he sat next to her.

He laid an arm over the back of the loveseat and let himself sink into the cushions. “Man, this is a great piece of furniture. Wish I’d nabbed it first.” On a grocery run to New Mina, she’d rooted through a yard sale and snapped up the loveseat, right out from under his nose. “You waited until my back was turned, on purpose. Rotten little sneak.”

She chuckled. “Typical greedy man. People sure love their yard sales over there, don’t they? And I saw the look on your face when you found it. You already have a sofa. You’d have deprived me without a drop of guilt.” She elbowed him in the ribs for emphasis.

“I can’t resist a good deal.” He ran his hand over the soft micro-suede surface. “And I can’t believe you only paid twenty dollars. There has to be a reason.” His eyes crinkled in calculation as he leveled them at her. “It’s probably infested with fleas.”

“Gaa!” She leapt off the sofa so quickly, it was a wonder she didn’t entangle herself in the cushions and fall flat on her face. She stood ten feet away and stared at her purchase with a look of horror. “Fleas?”

It killed him to hold the matter-of-fact expression when he ached to laugh. “Well, sure. Folks up here practically give their stuff away when they’re worried about fleas. It’s a serious problem.”

“Oh, my God. And it’s been in here for a week. I’ve been sitting on it! Oh, God.” Her eyes darted around the apartment as if hordes of fleas might march down her curtains and converge on the floor. Her hands fluttered at waist-level and she rubbed at her arms, scratching furiously as she paced back and forth. “We’ve got to get it out of here. They breed like crazy. I’ll have flea babies everywhere.”

She scratched harder, up and down her sides and over her hips. When she planted both hands on her backside and dug in, Denn had to suck air to swallow his belly laugh. She paced faster as she scratched. “We’ve got to fumigate, right away. We’ve got to—”

She broke off as he dissolved into laughter, clutching his stomach as he rolled on the cushions. Her panicky scratching and pacing, hysterical to watch . . . he couldn’t possibly hold it any longer.

When she gaped at him, he managed to gasp out, “No fleas. Jeez, you’re easy.” He started to hiccup. “I can’t breathe.”

“I don’t have fleas?” She spoke in a thin, bewildered voice.

Denn sat up, wiped his streaming eyes, and fought to inhale. The look on her face set him off again. Between guffaws, he wheezed, “No fleas in Alaska. It’s not their natural habitat.” He chanced another look at her, and as her expression changed from confused to thunderous, he held out a hand to stave her off. “I couldn’t resist, sorry, sorry—”

Without warning, she leapt on him, growling low in her throat. Denn choked back more laughter and fell against the cushions, helpless to do anything but enjoy the feel of her bouncing in his lap. She pounded on him with tight fists that did no damage but felt damned arousing. He slipped his hands up her back and held her steady as he let her do her worst.

Spent at last, she collapsed on his chest. Her hands scraped the hair out of her flushed face and she glared at him. “I can’t believe you freaked me out like that.” She plucked at the back of her short-sleeved polo shirt. “I’m all shaky and sweaty and it’s your fault.”

“Sorry, sorry.” But he wasn’t, and he figured she knew it. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You, screeching, running around the room, scratching your ass. I wish I’d had a way to film it.”

“You’re a beast.” She snaked her hand beneath his hair, caught hold of his ear and twisted it, hard.

“Damn, that hurt!” He pinned her hand against his chest. “You’re one vindictive lady.”

“You have no idea.” She wriggled in his arms. “Let me up.”

“Nope. I figure we’ll stay here and schmooze. Comfy sofa”—he sent her a sly, sidelong gaze—“and no fleas. We’re already in the best position for it. What more could you want?”

“A boyfriend who doesn’t torture me.” As soon as she said it, she blanched and pressed her fingers over her mouth. “Oh, Lord. Denn, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

Shocked, he released her, sat up, and eased away. She thought he’d deliberately hold her down, the way the son of a bitch she’d run from had? He shook his head to clear it. How could she think it of him?

Kendall’s eyes, wide and distressed, brimmed with tears as she stared at him. One of her hands stretched out toward him, then dropped on the cushion.

Conroy surveyed the dining room in satisfaction. Lit candles, grouped in corners and arranged on the polished table, glowed softly. Scalloped-edged linen placemats matched the napkins in their beaten silver rings. Paper-thin china dinner plates gleamed, framed by scrolled sterling flatware. Both place settings beckoned, lovely and elegant. A queen would reign quite comfortably at his table.

Classical music filtered through air perfumed with the heady scent of a well-prepared meal. Champagne chilled in a standing silver bucket, while nearby, crystal flutes stood sentinel.

Staged seduction. Conroy Herington considered himself an expert at it.

He extended a manicured hand to his guest, who grasped his fingers and offered a hesitant smile. The dinner settings breached protocol slightly, inasmuch as they had been placed side-by-side. He wanted no length of table between them, not on this magical, important night. With a flourish, he pulled out her chair.

“Thank you.” Her voice held sweetness.

For a few seconds, he stood behind her chair and absorbed the wonder of having her with him. In the candlelight her blond curls glowed, tempting him to lose his fingers in the rich, silky mass. When she turned and met his ardent gaze, his intake of breath paid homage to her deep blue eyes. Her lashes fluttered, then dropped modestly, hiding her expression.

She’s overcome by all I offer.
He sank onto the chair beside her and took her hand between both of his.

“You’re so lovely, my dear. Beyond anything I ever held as a model of beauty.” He kissed her dainty knuckles and thought her rosy blush quite enchanting. In the silence, as one piece of music ended and another began, he swore he heard her heart pound faster, just for him.

It’s perfect. This time, everything is perfect.

“I would never—Kendall, I wouldn’t do that to you. Never.”

“I know. Denn, I do know, and I don’t—it came out wrong.” Shaken, both by her careless words and Denn’s reaction, Kendall slipped her hands over his shoulders and held him close. He stilled in her embrace for a few seconds before his arms snapped around her and he pulled her in, tightly. Her fingers clenched in the hair that lay on his shoulder. Black silk, cool to the touch, thick and heavy and ruler straight. It felt good between her fingers.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your hair?”
What a ridiculous thing to say when I’ve just insulted him.
But he chuckled against her cheek, turned his lips to cast a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“I almost cut it last month. It drove me nuts all winter. Luna kept nagging me to braid it, but I draw the line at all those stereotypical Indian clichés. I don’t even tie it back in a ponytail.”

She smiled at his gruff voice and the silly conversation. His willingness to change the subject was meant to take her mind off her own foolishness.

“I really am sorry. I need you to know, I’d never lump you in with Roy. Not the tiniest bit—”

“Shh. Stop obsessing. Everything’s all right. Let’s talk about something else.” He cuddled her closer.

“Like what?” But she already knew.

“Like the way you shiver when I do this.” He brushed his tongue over her ear. “The way you tremble when I do this.” He traced the curve of her spine and gripped her low, pressed her against his heat and hardness. His voice dropped to a thick purr. “The way you melt . . .” His lips covered hers in a deep, penetrating kiss.

Oh, God.

Helpless, overwhelmed, she kissed him back. Her hands fisted in his hair, using it as an anchor in a dark, whirling world where nothing mattered except the heavy press of his body on hers. Their lips met and clung, broke apart, clung again. He scattered nipping kisses over her cheeks, her chin, and down the sensitive cord of her neck. She caught his ear and bit it, hard. His heart pounded against hers.

Too fast, too fast.
He slipped urgent fingers along her ribs, under her breasts, and gently cupped them. Her body shook, one long, quivering shudder.

Not fast enough.

“Denn . . .” His name left her throat on a moaning sigh.

He stroked her, shoulder to waist, then whispered against her collarbone, “You need to let it go. Whatever holds you back, whatever makes you hesitate . . . I can give you new memories, sweetheart. I promise.” His marvelous amber eyes bore right into her soul and spoke of need, asked for love that vowed forever.

“Oh, Denn.” She caressed his cheek, pressing her trembling lips there. “I think I’m damaged, far more than anyone can fix.” Her despairing eyes met his. “He broke something inside me. Maybe he didn’t finish everything he’d planned for me, but he damaged me, just the same. How do I ever recover from something like that?”

“One day, then another. Baby steps. You retrain yourself. I’d say the same to any victim of abuse. Learning to trust again isn’t easy, but if you’d let me, I could help. I want to help.”

Wearily, Kendall rested against his soothing warmth. Solid, strong, he held her up when she might have curled like a shrimp in the corner of her apartment with all of the drapes pulled and the doors double-locked. The dominant portion of her common sense screamed at her to run. Everything else that made her a woman with needs and desires persuaded her to relax and let this man care for her. For endless moments, both sides fought for control.

Her emotions won.

She turned to him, face-to-face, heartbeat against heartbeat. Her hands caught his and twined their fingers together. She leaned in and he met her halfway. For the merest second, she hesitated. He didn’t move, and she understood. This was her decision, her choice.

Their lips a scant breath apart, he murmured, “Be sure, Kendall. Once I have you, I won’t go back to being just friends.” His fingers tightened on hers. “I’m falling in love with you. It’s been going on for a while now. I just wanted you to know.”

Tears filled her eyes. A few overflowed and slid down her face. He kissed them away and licked the salty drops from his mouth. His sweet tribute convinced her like nothing else . . . and she moved in the rest of the way. Lips, hands, body. She took him over and took him down to the loveseat cushions, one long, tight press, full-length. Her kiss went deep, and he drank it in with a groan.