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The car pul ed up in front of the dark cabin. The white glow
of the moon reflecting off newly fal en snow highlighted the
isolation of the log home set at the foot of the mountain. It
was perfect. Remote. Comfortable. And it was theirs for the
weekend. No work. No pets. Nothing to distract them from
each other.
The uncharacteristic shyness that had been plaguing her
the entire four-hour trip came back in spades as Marc
switched off the car’s engine. Which was absolutely
ridiculous. They’d planned this weekend for a month.
Nothing was going to happen here that either of them
hadn’t eagerly anticipated, but now that it was time for the
planning to give birth to fantasy, she was shy to the point of
blushing. She, the woman who never blushed, never
embarrassed. Never lost control.
Becky pretended an interest in the scenery as the
driver’s side door opened. Marc’s gaze slid over her like a
touch, poking at her insecurities, asking silent questions
she didn’t want to answer. Anticipation and nerves fluttered
in her stomach in a queasy combination. She made her
expression blank to hide her discomfort.
Marc sighed. The door creaked open. “We don’t have to
do this, you know.”
She kept her voice just as balanced as her expression.
“Yes, we do.” Because she was so sick of not being who
she wanted to be with him.
“Then why the cold shoulder?”
That got her looking at him. He thought she was brushing
him off? She took a subtle steadying breath, inhaling the
scent of the outdoors…and Marc. Both were clean, crisp
and intangibly tied together in her mind, maybe because
they’d met on a weekend kayak excursion, but more than
likely because the man was as elemental as the forest
around them.
She unclenched fists she didn’t know she’d been
clenching. Good grief! No wonder he was asking
questions. She looked more ready to go into battle than
indulge in a romantic weekend. Becky shook her head at
her own idiocy, her hair swishing around her shoulders with
the movement. She brushed a strand away from her mouth.
“Believe it or not, I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
He didn’t try to make eye contact again, which was
good. If she’d looked at him, pride would have demanded
she lie. “Because I’m afraid I might not live up to your
expectations.”
The back of his fingers brushed down the side of her
cheek. His low chuckle stil sent a shiver down her spine the
way it had the first time she’d heard it. Not for the first time she wondered what attracted him to her. He was as sexy
and as uninhibited as a man could get, and she had more
inhibitions than…wel , than anyone needed.
“Baby, we’ve been married for two years — do you real y
think I don’t know what you’re capable of?”
She looked at him then, taking in the amusement and
understanding in his gaze. He was so sure this wasn’t
going to be a disaster. “Neither of us knows that.”
His smile was a slow, sexy stretch of the lips she’d seen
many times before. Masculine. Knowing. And confident. He
was always so confident. “I know.”
She clung to that confidence as his hand skimmed her
neck, her shoulder, then her thigh. A pat on her knee
fol owed by a quick squeeze and then he was out of the car,
leaving her alone with her hopes, fears, and that borrowed
bravado. Crisp night air swept in on his exit and she
jumped as the door thudded shut.
She shook her head at her own cowardice. They’d
devoted this weekend to obliterating the inhibitions
between them. Inhibitions neither wanted. Becky slung her
purse over her shoulder, watching in the rear view mirror as
Marc walked around the back, a tal muscular silhouette
cast in moonlight. Cowering in the car wasn’t an impressive
start on her side.
She yanked the latch and shoved the door open. Snow
crunched beneath her feet as she stood and stretched. The
night sky expanded before her, a satiny carpet of
The car pul ed up in front of the dark cabin. The white glow
of the moon reflecting off newly fal en snow highlighted the
isolation of the log home set at the foot of the mountain. It
was perfect. Remote. Comfortable. And it was theirs for the
weekend. No work. No pets. Nothing to distract them from
each other.
The uncharacteristic shyness that had been plaguing her
the entire four-hour trip came back in spades as Marc
switched off the car’s engine. Which was absolutely
ridiculous. They’d planned this weekend for a month.
Nothing was going to happen here that either of them
hadn’t eagerly anticipated, but now that it was time for the
planning to give birth to fantasy, she was shy to the point of
blushing. She, the woman who never blushed, never
embarrassed. Never lost control.
Becky pretended an interest in the scenery as the
driver’s side door opened. Marc’s gaze slid over her like a
touch, poking at her insecurities, asking silent questions
she didn’t want to answer. Anticipation and nerves fluttered
in her stomach in a queasy combination. She made her
expression blank to hide her discomfort.
Marc sighed. The door creaked open. “We don’t have to
do this, you know.”
She kept her voice just as balanced as her expression.
“Yes, we do.” Because she was so sick of not being who
she wanted to be with him.
“Then why the cold shoulder?”
That got her looking at him. He thought she was brushing
him off? She took a subtle steadying breath, inhaling the
scent of the outdoors…and Marc. Both were clean, crisp
and intangibly tied together in her mind, maybe because
they’d met on a weekend kayak excursion, but more than
likely because the man was as elemental as the forest
around them.
She unclenched fists she didn’t know she’d been
clenching. Good grief! No wonder he was asking
questions. She looked more ready to go into battle than
indulge in a romantic weekend. Becky shook her head at
her own idiocy, her hair swishing around her shoulders with
the movement. She brushed a strand away from her mouth.
“Believe it or not, I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
He didn’t try to make eye contact again, which was
good. If she’d looked at him, pride would have demanded
she lie. “Because I’m afraid I might not live up to your
expectations.”
The back of his fingers brushed down the side of her
cheek. His low chuckle stil sent a shiver down her spine the
way it had the first time she’d heard it. Not for the first time she wondered what attracted him to her. He was as sexy
and as uninhibited as a man could get, and she had more
inhibitions than…wel , than anyone needed.
“Baby, we’ve been married for two years — do you real y
think I don’t know what you’re capable of?”
She looked at him then, taking in the amusement and
understanding in his gaze. He was so sure this wasn’t
going to be a disaster. “Neither of us knows that.”
His smile was a slow, sexy stretch of the lips she’d seen
many times before. Masculine. Knowing. And confident. He
was always so confident. “I know.”
She clung to that confidence as his hand skimmed her
neck, her shoulder, then her thigh. A pat on her knee
fol owed by a quick squeeze and then he was out of the car,
leaving her alone with her hopes, fears, and that borrowed
bravado. Crisp night air swept in on his exit and she
jumped as the door thudded shut.
She shook her head at her own cowardice. They’d
devoted this weekend to obliterating the inhibitions
between them. Inhibitions neither wanted. Becky slung her
purse over her shoulder, watching in the rear view mirror as
Marc walked around the back, a tal muscular silhouette
cast in moonlight. Cowering in the car wasn’t an impressive
start on her side.
She yanked the latch and shoved the door open. Snow
crunched beneath her feet as she stood and stretched. The
night sky expanded before her, a satiny carpet of
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