* * * *
Every evening, Rebel’s stomach knotted like a misused skein of yarn. And she hated it. Worse, was the fluttery sensation in her chest at the sound of the nightly knock. By Friday, Jewel was wagging her tail and staring at the front door minutes before the time Holt regularly appeared.
It might be an hour later than she served dinner to her kids, but Rebel didn’t care. She was done handing sandwiches out the door and feeling hollow while she stood at the counter eating her own dinner. The neighbor had arrived earlier in the day with fresh-from-her-garden tomatoes and lettuce. The mouthwatering aroma of crispy bacon hung in the air. Rebel tapped her toe impatiently.
Holt worked hard six days each week at the car wash. So she heard from many women who suddenly got their cars washed multiple days. Those cougars talked about how sexy her trespasser looked scrubbing a brush across their windshield while the automated tracks carried their vehicle into the wash.
Her red Rav4 needed a serious scrubbing, but she refused to give in to the temptation. None of those woman would see the newest divorcee with her tongue lolling out. Or her eyes devouring the handsome package of Holt hard at work. Unless they came to her farm around dinner time.
At the knock, Jewel leapt to her feet and barked.
Rebel smoothed her palms along the side of her sundress. She hadn’t worn it to impress him. The house was nearly a hundred degrees, and the dress was cooler than anything else she owned, with her shoulders and back bared except for the wide halter strap around her neck.
The blast from the box fan in the living room sent the full skirt swirling around her knees. Her stomach flopped like a fish out of water.
It took two attempts before the old doorknob twisted open. For some reason her hand slimed it on her first try. Jewel’s tail slapped against the back of her knees. Someone was excited to see the homeless drifter. She ignored the galloping pulse in her ears proclaiming the dog wasn’t the only one.
Glorious turquoise eyes flashed, scanning down her frame in patient perusal. Rebel resisted fanning her suddenly hot face. To distract herself, she ran her gaze over the stylishly faded jeans and snug fitting tank top hugging the Adonis frame in front of her. A bottle of wine peeked out from the crook of one bulging bicep.
“Does wine go with BLTs?”
Holt’s eyes focused on her lips when she spoke. Molten desire pooled in her chest. If his looks generated this much attraction, what would it be like to actually kiss the man?
Are you planning to find out?
Rebel shoved the errant thought out of her mind and extended her hand toward the bottle.
“You’re more lovely than a rainbow.”
Well, that was a different sort of compliment. Rebel’s fingers brushed his toned arm when they gripped the neck of the dark red bottle. A surge of something akin to a lightning strike raced through her. She jerked her hand away, shuffled back a step.
“Come in.”
“Come in?” He furrowed his shapely brows and stiffened his spine.
“Yes. Please. I figured I could serve your sandwich in the kitchen for a change.”
Rebel cupped her fingers toward him.
Jewel snuffled the backside of his knees and nudged with her nose. The dog knew an invitation when she heard one.
The front door clicked shut. When had those hinges stopped squealing? Jewel’s grunt was the only other sound Rebel heard, but she refused to look back.
In the kitchen, she settled the bottle of wine on the counter beside the sink. When she turned to retrieve the corkscrew from the drawer at the end of the bar, her nose rammed into the toned chest too many local women admired at the car wash.
“I didn’t hear you.” Rebel stumbled back, hand flying to cover her leap-frogging heart.
Lean, artistic hands cupped her waist. His touch loosed havoc in her body. Her pulse stuttered. Air managed to place a stranglehold on her throat.
“I apologize for startling you.”
His face was so close she could count the amber flecks in the tropical ocean pools of his eyes. Like a summer storm, the scent of a rain shower embraced her.
“I should chill the wine.”
Her feet ignored her command to move. Heat seeped from his hands into her stomach. With a gentle caress, Holt let his fingers slide over her hips. Fluttering birds and tidal waves of lava warred within her.
Rebel stared at his mouth. Thin lips twitched at the corners. If he laughed at her, she would die.
What am I thinking? I’m probably twice his age.
“How old are you?” Rebel twisted toward the laundry room. Her steps were wooden as she marched through the narrow doorway. When she returned, she carried a metal bucket, perfect for the wine bottle.
Holt leaned on the end of the counter, arms crossed over his chest. The snug t-shirt outlined every muscle, as if he wore nothing.
I might as well tear the shirt off.
Rebel gasped, covering the sound with her hand.
“Did you really ask my age? I thought that was taboo.”
Rebel swallowed to moisten her parched tongue. “Only if you ask a woman.”
Half of his mouth quirked into a grin, and he arched the corresponding eyebrow. Her heart dove into her stomach.
“Sounds like discrimination.”
Rebel twisted toward the refrigerator, snatching open the freezer door. She couldn’t trust her hands not to do something inappropriate and foolish.
“In any case, I’m too old for you.”
Cold air slapped her face. Her cheeks cooled. She gulped frost, closing her eyes for a moment. When her fingers closed around the ice box, her eyes snapped open.
Holt stood a step closer to her, arms twitching at his sides.
Rebel looked past him to the bucket. Swirls of icy air at her back stiffened her resolve.
“I’m older than I look.” His eyes darkened to a twilit sky. “Older than you think.”
Rebel raised her free hand, swatting the air between them. “It doesn’t matter.”
Hot air smothered her once she swung the freezer door closed. A flush burned her cheeks.
Holt’s hand closed around the ice holder. “I can do this.”
Rebel looked dumbly between his hand and face. Finally, her fingers released the box.
“Are we having sandwiches?”
Right. She invited him in for dinner. And all she could think about was sampling him for dessert. She wiped her hand across her forehead.
“BLTs. Garden fresh.” Rebel shuffled across the kitchen to where the ripe Roma tomatoes waited to be sliced. “Well, not the bacon.” She needed to gain control of herself before wielding a knife.
“BLTs?”
“Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Jane brought the lettuce and tomato earlier today.”
Ice cubes rattled into the metal bucket. Glass clinked.
“The bacon is fresh-cooked, but hardly from the garden.”
Why am I rambling?
“It will taste delicious. Your sandwiches always do.”
Giddy pleasure danced across her chest at the compliment. What did she expect a starving man to say? “No BLTs where you come from?”
“No. Our bread is different, not really right for layering with meat and vegetables.”
Strange. She tried to imagine bread that wouldn’t work for a sandwich. Even flat tortillas could be rolled up with meat and cheese.
“Where are you from? Europe? I’ve been trying to place your accent.”
Holt rattled the bottle in the ice and shuttled the bucket to the scarred table. It had been in her grandparents’ dining room. Her father had stripped and refinished it, but that had been when she was a teenager. It’s aged, battered look was perfect in the ramshackle farmhouse.
“I am practicing to get rid of the accent.” Holt’s words were carefully constructed.
She whirled toward him, smiling. “That was good. Almost sounded like an Idahoan.”
Holt smiled and no
dded in acknowledgement.
Tingles raced along her hips where his fingers had touched her not so long ago. Rebel put her back to the man, took a measured breath.
He wasn’t traditionally handsome. His thin face was longer than the average movie star’s. Even his build was leaner than the stocky bulk she found attractive. Why was her body reacting so strongly to him?
Am I that desperate?
The knife smacked into the maple cutting board with excessive force.
“Can I do anything else to help?”
His warm breath rustled against her ear. Her heart jumped into her throat. Again, he’d moved across the floor without a sound. The man could be a cat burglar with that stealth. For all she knew, he was one.
“The wine glasses are in the curio cabinet in the dining room.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She gestured toward the third doorway out of the country kitchen.
Holt moved away, silent as ever.
Rebel sighed and leaned her forehead against the overhead cupboard.
Somehow, she managed to construct three sandwiches without touching him again. When she pulled the fresh fruit salad and tray of carrots and celery from the refrigerator, her heartbeat had completely normalized. This was her being neighborly to a stranger. Nothing more.
At her suggestion—she needed space to think straight—Holt wandered through the house, Jewel padding along beside him. A squeak of the stairs announced when they went to the upper level.
Rebel concentrated on relieving the bottle of its cork. The resulting pop echoed through the house. By the time she turned from tossing the noisy seal into the trash, Holt and Jewel were back in the room.
“The photographs are of your family?”
Rebel nodded. “Let’s eat.” She gestured toward the table.
Holt stood behind one of the chairs and pulled it out. With manners like that, he had to be European. Rebel thanked him, careful not to let her bare shoulders rub against his fingers which rested an extra moment on the back of the chair.
When he sat down, he stared at her. “Ladies first.”
“Guests first.” She smiled when his eyes widened. “I promise I won’t tell your mom you served yourself first.”
Holt snorted and shook his head. “She would assume as much anyway. Tell me about your family.”
Rebel filled the space between them with her history in this house. When she talked about Danny and Raven, her hands fluttered about. Warmth returned in her chest. She loved those kids. No matter how much the end of her marriage shattered her, she would never regret the years spent with Robert. She wouldn’t have the kids without him.
“Your children are not here.”
Rebel shook her head, sipping the smooth wine to sooth her throat. Had she really monopolized the conversation? “They’re with their father in Seattle for most of the summer. I have plenty of work to do around here.” Her hands fluttered toward the doorway. “Time will pass quickly.”
Holt studied her with fathomless eyes. “I’ll keep you from being lonely.” An impish grin made light of his words.
Her body flamed like coals in the wind. “Then I’ll keep you busy.” She swallowed another mouthful of wine, staring at the bottom of her glass. When had she finished that?
“As long as there are sandwiches.”
Rebel shoved her chair back. He lurched to his feet when she stood.
“Sit. I’ve got more than sandwiches for you.”
Holt’s gaze flicked down the front of her. Heat swelled in her chest. “I made trifle.”
Holt cocked his head to the side, perching on the edge of his chair, gulping down another mouthful of fruit.
“One hundred percent creamy deliciousness. You’ll see. There’s more to me than sandwiches.”
Rebel pulled the crystal dish from the refrigerator, bumping the door with her hip to close it. Holt’s gaze followed her to the table, a hungry look in his eyes.
A wave of lightheadedness caused Rebel to stumble.
His hands cupped her shoulders, steadying her again. He lifted the fancy dish out of her grip and slid it onto the table. His fingers caressed the side of her face, spreading warmth in their wake.
Rebel stared at him, wondering at the brown dots dancing at the side of her vision. Was the wine affecting her? Her fingers curled around the loops at his waist. She should say something. Push away from him and get the dessert bowls.
Holt threaded his fingers through her hair and sighed. He lowered his forehead to hers while one hand loosened the band holding her hair away from her face. The curtain of hair fell against her bare shoulders. Both of his hands delved into it. A bedroom moan floated from deep inside him.
Rebel’s body flushed at the sexy sound.
Their mouths nearly touched. The smell of raspberries mingled with the fresh scent of his breath. Her lips tingled. If she stood on her toes, they would be kissing.
“Softer than I imagined.” His quiet words sent warm breath trailing over her ear, tickled her neck.
He had imagined touching her hair?
Holt leaned away so he could see her face. “Are you alright?”
Breath shuddered through her chest.
His gaze shifted to the swell of her breasts. From his height, he could probably see more cleavage than she’d intended to reveal.
Shivers followed his fingers when he dropped them from her hair and trailed them down her bare back. “Your skin is like velvet.”
The whispered words sounded reverent. Had a man ever used such a tone when talking to her? When talking about her?
Blood pounded through her, ringing in her ears. She studied his baby smooth cheeks as her fingers followed the curve of his pointy chin. His gaze locked on hers, and his hands rested on her hips once more.
She reached to touch the lock of brown hair brushing the top of his manly shoulders. His hand snagged hers, tucking it against his chest. She flattened the palm over iron-like muscles. Beneath her fingers, his heart galloped like a spooked horse.
Holt stared into her eyes, lowering his mouth to hers. He moved so slow, Rebel worried her heart might burst from her chest before he kissed her.
She pushed onto her tiptoes. Their lips collided. His mouth slid across hers and then to her chin.
She sighed. A groan rumbled in his throat. His lips claimed hers again. Their mouths melded. A hot tongue tapped her lower lip. She opened to him, welcomed his probing with a caress from her tongue. The sweetness of berries and melon exploded across her senses.
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her against him until she felt every inch of his hard body, all of it eager to devour hers. Suddenly, her throat closed. She couldn’t breathe.
Rebel gasped, pushed away from him. The room spun, and her thudding heart sounded as loud as a door knocker.
“Wait.”
Holt’s eyes bored into hers, the blue igniting like a flame. “I have been waiting.”
* * * *
The guttural words sounded strange to Holt. Passion roared through him, burning hotter than any fire. Electric jolts similar to when he used magic skittered across his chest where Rebel’s fingers curled around his shirt.
“But--”
Holt covered her perky lips with his. They had talked enough. Watching her suck berries into her mouth had nearly undone his control. Eating wasn’t meant to be provocative. Had never been an aphrodisiac before.
She sighed. Her hands slid to the waistband of his pants, causing the tingling current to follow.
He pressed her against him. Her soft curves molded to him, a glove fitting a hand.
His fingers wove through her thick tresses, drawing her mouth more firmly against his. Their tongues danced. His blood sang.
This was why he came to Earth. Finally, he could savor the sweet fruit of the beautiful human in his arms.
She pulled away again.
Holt groaned. Their food still covered the table. How many steps to the room with the fireplace? Not that they needed any
thing to heat them up. His skin felt ready to combust.
“The dessert will be ruined.” She wiggled and shoved against his chest.
What was this woman talking about? Holt let his hands drift over the curve of her backside as she backed away. Her hair shimmered as sunlight from the window over the sink spotlighted it. The silken mass swayed, so alluring, as she grasped the dish he’d recently liberated from her hands.
Cool air brushed him when she opened the door to the appliance and disappeared inside. “Now it will keep.” She wrung her hands together after stopping the flow of cold from the food keeper.Her feet hesitated. A shadow passed over her eyes, a dark cloud on their sparkling gray surface.
Holt closed the distance between them. He cupped her silky shoulders and pressed a kiss against the base of her graceful neck. Her sigh of pleasure tickled against his ear. Fire raced from that sensitive spot through his whole body.
Her hands slithered around his waist. His cupped her hips before he lifted her off the ground, breathing in the scent of her, sampling the saltiness of her skin again.
“I’m not sure.” Her words were a sigh against his neck.
Holt carried her into the bright room with a fireplace dominating one wall. Pictures of her family smiled at them from the mantle.
“My room—”
Holt silenced her with his mouth. The dog padded up the stairs. Holt squinted at the beast, trying to stay light on his feet while his mind and body hummed with a different sort of focus.
Rebel squirmed against him. He lowered her to the ground, his lips lonely when she freed herself from his embrace.
Her hips swayed as she mounted the stairs. Holt followed, entranced by the swish of the blue and white skirt flaring with every step she took.
Time to savor his favorite dessert.
THE END
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