like a baby.â
Her pulse shot up a notch. She told herself to back away, but when he bent his head and very gently kissed her, she couldnât resist. Those hard male lips were softer than she had imagined, and they fit perfectly with hers. He smelled like the forest, and hard work, and man.
A soft sigh escaped. She didnât remember sliding her arms up around his neck or opening to take the kiss from a slow, leisurely exploration to deep, hot, and wet. She only knew she didnât want to stop. Ever.
Dylan groaned. His hands slid into her hair, fisted, holding her immobile as he deepened the kiss. Laneâs insides were quaking, her knees weak. It took all her will to end the kiss and back away.
She looked up at him, tried to even her breathing. Just a little more time , she told herself. Just a few more days. Why she needed them, she was no longer sure. âIâd better go in. Iâve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.â
âAre you sure thatâs the way you want it?â
She wanted to drag him into her room, wanted to tear off his clothes and ravish him. âFor now,â she said.
He kissed her softly one last time, waited for her to disappear inside her bedroom and close the door. She could hear his heavy footsteps as he padded down the hall and went into his own room.
Lane released an unsteady breath. Every part of her body tingled. She could still taste him on her lips. Her skin felt hot and tight and her breasts ached.
But she was two thousand miles from home, in the middle of a job she was committed to finishing. If the sex was disappointing, if for some reason it didnât work out between them, it would be a disaster.
She thought of Maggie Ridell. Dylan had said they were only friends. But she wasnât completely sure she could trust him. He had lied about Emilyâor at least lied by omission. And the Ridell woman definitely had more than a casual interest in him.
She had to be certain she was making the right decision, but she had wanted Dylan since the moment she had met him. She had to wait, but God, it seemed like she had been waiting forever.
Determined to think of something else, she stripped off her clothes and slid naked between the covers. Even though the sheets were cold, she enjoyed the freedom.
Finn was already in the room, asleep on his bed in the corner. Lane turned off the lamp on the nightstand, exhaled an exhausted breath, lay back, and closed her eyes.
She wasnât sure how long she slept before the faint sound slowly reached her. It stirred images in the back of her mind that eventually nudged her awake, and for several seconds she stared up at the ceiling trying to figure out what it was.
Then she knew. Crying. It sounded like a child. Emily. Grabbing her robe off the foot of the bed, Lane tugged it on, grabbed the flashlight off the nightstand, and hurried out the door.
There was no one in the hallway, but the crying grew louder as she moved along the corridor and opened the door to Emilyâs bedroom. Careful not to frighten her, Lane shined the flashlight into the room, spotted Emily lying on the bed, and stepped quietly inside.
The crying stopped as Lane approached. She saw that the little girlâs eyes were open and staring up at her, and it didnât appear she had been crying at all.
âAre you all right, sweetheart?â Lane perched on the chair next to the nightstand. Emily surprised her by nodding.
âWere you crying?â
She shook her head.
âDid you hear it?â
Emily nodded.
âDo you know who it was?â
Emily shook her head, closed her eyes, and snuggled back down in the bed.
Lane listened, but heard only silence. Surely it had been Emily. There was no doubt it had been a child and she was the only child in the house. Or was she?
Lane gazed back down at the little girl, who was already fast asleep.
A chill slipped through her. Charlie Jensen had said there were ghosts in the house. He
Her pulse shot up a notch. She told herself to back away, but when he bent his head and very gently kissed her, she couldnât resist. Those hard male lips were softer than she had imagined, and they fit perfectly with hers. He smelled like the forest, and hard work, and man.
A soft sigh escaped. She didnât remember sliding her arms up around his neck or opening to take the kiss from a slow, leisurely exploration to deep, hot, and wet. She only knew she didnât want to stop. Ever.
Dylan groaned. His hands slid into her hair, fisted, holding her immobile as he deepened the kiss. Laneâs insides were quaking, her knees weak. It took all her will to end the kiss and back away.
She looked up at him, tried to even her breathing. Just a little more time , she told herself. Just a few more days. Why she needed them, she was no longer sure. âIâd better go in. Iâve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.â
âAre you sure thatâs the way you want it?â
She wanted to drag him into her room, wanted to tear off his clothes and ravish him. âFor now,â she said.
He kissed her softly one last time, waited for her to disappear inside her bedroom and close the door. She could hear his heavy footsteps as he padded down the hall and went into his own room.
Lane released an unsteady breath. Every part of her body tingled. She could still taste him on her lips. Her skin felt hot and tight and her breasts ached.
But she was two thousand miles from home, in the middle of a job she was committed to finishing. If the sex was disappointing, if for some reason it didnât work out between them, it would be a disaster.
She thought of Maggie Ridell. Dylan had said they were only friends. But she wasnât completely sure she could trust him. He had lied about Emilyâor at least lied by omission. And the Ridell woman definitely had more than a casual interest in him.
She had to be certain she was making the right decision, but she had wanted Dylan since the moment she had met him. She had to wait, but God, it seemed like she had been waiting forever.
Determined to think of something else, she stripped off her clothes and slid naked between the covers. Even though the sheets were cold, she enjoyed the freedom.
Finn was already in the room, asleep on his bed in the corner. Lane turned off the lamp on the nightstand, exhaled an exhausted breath, lay back, and closed her eyes.
She wasnât sure how long she slept before the faint sound slowly reached her. It stirred images in the back of her mind that eventually nudged her awake, and for several seconds she stared up at the ceiling trying to figure out what it was.
Then she knew. Crying. It sounded like a child. Emily. Grabbing her robe off the foot of the bed, Lane tugged it on, grabbed the flashlight off the nightstand, and hurried out the door.
There was no one in the hallway, but the crying grew louder as she moved along the corridor and opened the door to Emilyâs bedroom. Careful not to frighten her, Lane shined the flashlight into the room, spotted Emily lying on the bed, and stepped quietly inside.
The crying stopped as Lane approached. She saw that the little girlâs eyes were open and staring up at her, and it didnât appear she had been crying at all.
âAre you all right, sweetheart?â Lane perched on the chair next to the nightstand. Emily surprised her by nodding.
âWere you crying?â
She shook her head.
âDid you hear it?â
Emily nodded.
âDo you know who it was?â
Emily shook her head, closed her eyes, and snuggled back down in the bed.
Lane listened, but heard only silence. Surely it had been Emily. There was no doubt it had been a child and she was the only child in the house. Or was she?
Lane gazed back down at the little girl, who was already fast asleep.
A chill slipped through her. Charlie Jensen had said there were ghosts in the house. He
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