Chapter 87 87
He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with as much force as he could muster. Ordinarily when he was this infuriated, he’d go to the gym and lift weights or box with the bag. Anything to burn off steam. But instead, he was being tormented by an advanced case of fever, exacerbated by lust.
What was he supposed to do with a woman who made him crazy in bed, and yet did the same thing the rest of the time in an entirely different, far more maddening way? No man wanted to work this hard for sex. A flurry of work-related phone calls did nothing to calm him. Instead, he threw on some cold weather gear and went outside to shovel the front steps.
After that chore was completed to his satisfaction, he walked around until sheer exhaustion forced him to abandon the hopeless endeavor. The storm had dropped at least twelve inches of snow, and the biting wind had turned the top layer to an icy crust that was like chiseling stone. At last, chest heaving with exertion, he returned to the house. As he walked inside and caught a lingering whiff of what could only be Sherry’s signature fragrance, a brilliant plan bloomed in his brain.
His motives were murky, even in his own head. Was he trying to make her mad? Or was he hoping for something more? Sherry might not have agreed to marry him, but she had agreed to have sex with him while they were snowed in here. What did it matter if they fought like cats and dogs in between? Why did he care that guys had hurt her in the past? And why did he still wince when he remembered that he was the first man to break her heart?
She’d made it clear that she was no longer interested in any kind of emotional connection between the two of them. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? He’d gotten laid twice already. That should be enough for any man indulging a passing fancy. She'd rejected his offer to marry him too. Was it really necessary to play the valiant knight for a woman who so clearly didn’t need a hero? Sherry, by her own admission, could take care of herself. She was driven and focused, and fiercely intelligent.
And she hated romance. He grinned as he walked toward the kitchen. She didn’t cook. The cook was close in case he needed her, but for now, any meal planning was up to him. He had just the plan to even the scales after that bloodbath of a pool game. Sherry was sharp. But he had an advantage when it came to food. He planned to use every bit of it.
—-------------
When Sherry stretched to work the kinks out of her back, it was almost five o’clock. Dark had fallen despicably early, sending her spirits plummeting. She was a runner on occasion, not hard-core-marathon level, but for exercise and stress relief. At the moment, nothing sounded more wonderful.
Unfortunately, she was trapped. And even worse, with a man who made her question everything she knew about herself. She owed him an apology. The truth stuck in her throat, a huge lump of dismay wrapped in shame. Justin was a nice guy. There. She admitted it. And he’d been doing his best to be kind and understanding when she uncharacteristically unburdened her soul.
But in return for his gentle, nonjudgmental listening, she’d been bitchy and ungrateful. No wonder he’d heaved a ladder across the room. Why did she have to be so touchy? Her life would be a lot easier if she had ever learned to be open to people, to meet them halfway. But she’d grown up in such an environment of mistrust when it came to the outside world, it was hard to change her ways.
She ducked into her bedroom to freshen up. She untied her cardigan from around her neck and slipped her arms into the sleeves. Taking down her hair to brush out the dust and tangles, her hands shook suddenly as she remembered Justin in this room. In her bed. How would she ever sleep tonight? The image of his big nude body dwarfing the bed would be impossible to forget.
She had intended to tuck her long unruly hair back into its hair band at the nape of her neck, but feeling both foolish and hopeful, she left it loose. Looking in the mirror, she winced. With her hair tumbled around her shoulders, she looked far more feminine. And vulnerable. Neither of those were comfortable attributes as far as she was concerned.
When the growling of her stomach drove her to seek out sustenance, she decided she could hide no longer. Gathering her courage, she went in search of Justin.
The smells from the kitchen took her by surprise, making her mouth water and her nose twitch appreciatively. Gingerly, she pushed open the door.
Her host looked up, spatula in hand. When he was out of the room, she could almost convince herself that he was just another guy. But face-to-face… Her heart stuttered and then picked up its normal rhythm. He was almost too much to handle.
She swallowed and bit her lower lip, hovering in the doorway.
“Something smells amazing,” she said, offering an unspoken apology in hopes he would hear it and let her off the hook.
“It’s just about ready,” he said, his voice neutral. “How about opening that bottle of wine for us? And bring the glasses.”
She did as he asked, ridiculously grateful that he wasn’t frowning at her. Her nerves were jittery and her stomach unsettled. Though she deserved his censure, perhaps, she was emotional and broody, feeling more like an adolescent girl than a grown woman. He finished dishing up two plates of pork chops, risotto and home-canned green beans while Sherry watched. Adding a slice of homemade bread to each, he picked up one plate in each hand and nodded his head.
“I’ll let you go first. We’re going to eat in the living room.”
She grabbed the crystal and the wine and bumped open the door to the adjoining room with her hip. When she saw what was on the other side, she stopped dead. From the sound of his muttered curse, Justin almost plowed into her from behind.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, his breath brushing her ear.
She swallowed hard, remembering her intent to be conciliatory. “Not at all.”