It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(9)

He motioned her closer to the fire and Alison joined him, holding her muddy palms out to the warmth as she knelt on the rough plank floor. “Look at that,” she said, examining her nails. “I’m a mess.”

“I’ll heat up some water on the stove and get you a basin to wash up in.”

“I could use a shower,” she said, staring down at her jeans. “And a washing machine.”

“No shower,” he said, his mind flashing on an image of her stripped naked and wet. “Or washing machine. After I bought the cabin from my parents, I restored it to its original state. Took out the electricity and the modern conveniences. We never had indoor plumbing. There’s an outhouse in the back.”

What the hell had he been thinking, taking out the plumbing? He’d never planned to have a sexy, muddy woman to deal with.

“No plumbing?” she asked. “How did you take a bath?”

“A big copper tub. I know you’re probably not used to roughing it but—” Another image flashed in his brain. A bathtub was even better.

“I grew up living out of a converted school bus. We had a portable toilet, but we were only allowed to use it in emergencies. We showered at the local Y or in a school locker room, anywhere we could.”

“Why a bus?”

“My parents were struggling musicians and they played every state fair and flea market in the lower forty-eight. I didn’t live in a real house until I was nearly seventeen. Then we settled in Ponder Hill, near Nashville. My mother home schooled us until then. We had a very unconventional upbringing.”

“Interesting,” he said. His gaze met hers and he opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, smiling crookedly.

“What?” Alison asked.

“Nothing.”

“You were about to say something.”

“I was about to apologize for kissing you earlier,” he said. “I don’t know what made me—”

“No,” Alison interrupted. “It was nice. Really nice. I—I enjoyed it.” She paused, her gaze dropping to his lips. “And…if you wanted to do it again you could—”

Drew didn’t let her finish the invitation. Instead, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. Her hands fluttered around his face, as if she was afraid to get him dirty. But Drew didn’t care about a little mud.

They tumbled down onto the floor, their mouths searching and tasting, and she twisted her fingers through the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. A wave of pleasure washed over him and his mind spun with contradictory thoughts. How was this happening? He was kissing a stranger, yet it seemed so perfect, so right.

“If you don’t want me to do this, just say so,” he said, his mouth finding a spot at the base of her neck.

“No, no,” she replied breathlessly.

“No?”

“Yes! Yes, yes. I’m good. I’m fine.”

Drew slid his hands beneath her jacket, running his palm from her belly to her hip, reveling in the feel of her skin. He waited for her to stop him, but instead, she arched closer, an invitation for more. And when he moved beneath her sweater and met bare skin, she moaned softly, the heat of his hand seeping into her body.

He slowly drew back and stared down into her eyes. Things were moving awfully fast. And the last thing he wanted to do was rush. “I can’t seem to stop myself.”

Her eyes were wide. “I know how you feel. It’s strange.”

Shaking his head, he sat up and crossed his legs in front of him. “Maybe I better get that water heated for your bath. And then I’ll make us some dinner.” Drew got to his feet. “There are clean clothes in the wicker basket over there. A sweatshirt and sweatpants, if you want to change. And some warm socks.”

He levered to his feet and walked away, wincing at the growing erection that pressed at the front of his damp jeans. This was crazy! He’d just met her. And yet, the attraction between them was overwhelming. He’d been too long without a woman in his bed. It was simple physiology. Self-gratification only delayed desire for so long.

But he felt more than simply a physical response to her. He found her intriguing—clever and stubborn and beautiful. And all this without knowing much more than her name and her occupation. Musicologist. What the hell did that mean? It sounded more like a medical specialty than something out of academia.

He had so many questions to ask, but the moment he came within a few feet of her, he didn’t want to talk. They had one night together, one night to explore this attraction, and he planned to make it a night worth remembering.



AS DREW STARTED A SECOND fire in the woodstove against the opposite wall, Alison slipped out of her wet jacket. Her pulse was still racing from the kiss they’d shared and she could barely catch her breath.