Chapter 38

“From the barbarian invasion?”

“They’re great kids, all of them.” He turned her toward him, tall and broad in the low-ceilinged, dimly lit room. “But I’m not in a babysitting mood.”

“Mmm, me, neither.” She gazed up at him, grinning, until the emotion became unbearably strong and she had to look away, nervous and unsettled, as if they’d just met. “This must be your workshop. And that’s the table you’re making?”

“None other.”

Candace walked over to examine it, disturbed by how rattled she was, but impressed by the woodworking. The piece was solidly and skillfully built, spare but graceful with long tapered legs and a single drawer, classic Shaker style. “This is beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He ran his hands over the smooth, flawless wood, and she impulsively yanked his camera out of her purse and snapped a picture, then another when he looked up, startled, and a third when he smiled.

“You’ll e-mail me these pictures in Rosehill?”

His smile faltered. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll print them out and send you hard copies if you want.”

“Okay.” He was looking at her thoughtfully, as if he wanted to say something, tapping his fingers on top of the unfinished table.

“Yes?”

“What?” He roused himself and moved toward her, that prowling swagger that made her turn shaky with nerves and longing.

“You wanted something?”

He gave her a look that told her exactly what he wanted. “Yes, I definitely do.”

“Me, too,” she whispered. She was still unsettled, but her body was telling her to go ahead more strongly than her brain objected.

“You’re sure?”

She put her hands to his chest. “What would you say if I changed my mind and said no?”

“Too late.”

His lips were familiar by now, but no less exciting. The kisses turned fiery immediately; Candace arched into him, aware of his arousal, wishing they weren’t in a basement among tools and planks of wood, but in her bedroom with clean sheets and candles and smooth jazz on the radio.

Did that make her boring? She didn’t know. But when his tongue explored her mouth, thrusting in a way that turned her central heating up to high, she lost track of the thought and dragged his shirt up, explored his smooth muscled skin. They had to stop sometime, they couldn’t make love here among all this dusty stuff and with kids upstairs, but she wasn’t sure she knew when she’d get the strength to—

“Mo-o-om, Jake hit me with a truck.”

Candace started, then closed her eyes again when his tongue lightly stroked her neck, and his lips followed. She tipped her head to give him access, moaning her pleasure. “I wish we were in my bedroom.”

“No kids?”

“And a bed.”

“Ah, yes, the clean sheets.” He pulled her dress up to her waist. “I think we can manage here just fine.”

“With…no bed?”

He stopped in the act of pulling her dress off. “You’ve never had sex out of bed?”

She froze in horror. Oh my God. Why had she said that? He’d think she was a complete unsexy, unadventurous idiot.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her dress back down, took her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to shock you.”

No, no, this was worse. Now he thought she was horrified at the idea instead of at her own inexperience. Fix it, Candace. She was leaving in the morning, she wanted to make up for the time she’d wasted and have him as many times as they could manage it, no matter where or how. If she fell for him, so be it.

“I’m not shocked. I just…”

“What?” He rocked her back and forth, his erection pressed against her.

“I must seem pretty…staid.”

“I’d say you’ve probably had staid lovers.”

“Maybe…” She was trying very hard not to panic. He had probably done women all over the city in all kinds of wild and spontaneous places and she’d completely killed the moment worrying about beds with clean sheets, for God’s sake. She needed to work to recapture the feeling in the butterfly exhibit, where she’d truly managed to drop the control freak, let go and be in the moment.

“You don’t remember our night together, Candace, but I do. Every second.

Trust me, I was not bored. Never did I feel the need to nap. Not at all. Even on drugs.”

She laughed and felt better. A little. No, a lot. She was going to fix this.

“If you’re not comfortable here, we can—”

“I’m very comfortable.” She pulled her dress off, stopped herself from folding it and hanging it carefully across a chair. In fact, she tossed it onto his half-finished nightstand, then unhooked her bra and did the dress on the night table one better, by tossing it carelessly onto the floor. She didn’t even look to see where it landed.

Nolan made a surprised and helplessly aroused sound that turned her on even more—and increased her confidence. “You sure you want this here, Candace?”

She smiled seductively, put her hands to the elastic of her panties, eased them down, kicked them across the room. “Do I look sure?”

He sucked in a harsh breath, lunged forward and lifted her onto him. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped her legs around him, somehow sounding cool and calm when she was wildly, breathlessly excited. She’d never done anything like this. It felt freeing and dangerous and safe all at once—which was the only type of danger she could handle.

Nolan carried her effortlessly over to a worktable, which she promised herself she wouldn’t inspect for cleanliness, but couldn’t help one peek.

“Wait.” He put her down, whipped off his shirt and spread it on the table, then lifted her onto the soft fabric, nudging her legs apart.

“Are you always this thoughtful?”

“I thought I was being practical. Get splinters in your butt our first time and you won’t want me again.”

She cracked up. “That is such a guy thing to say.”

“Isn’t it? So is this.” He knelt between her legs, his breath warm, kissed her intimately, his tongue and lips wet and wonderful. “You have the most beautiful—”

“Mo-om. I can’t find my textbook.”

“Did you check your backpack?”

Nolan leaned his head despairingly on her thigh. “If it’s not drugs or too-public places, it’s children.”

“We’ll get it right.” She stroked his hair affectionately, lingering on the curl around his ear, the thick strands at the bottom of his neck.