He looked out to the living room, to where Albert sat on the part of the couch Jesse wasn’t sprawled out on. Mikey was half asleep in his arms, and Nelly was curled up under his free arm, rubbing the baby’s tummy as Albert hummed a lullaby. He glanced up and caught Rebel staring. He made a shooing motion with his hand. His meaning was clear—go on, we’re all fine here.
They were all fine. Madeline was not. He looked at the shaken woman in front of him, seeming far more delicate than she ever had, including heat stroke. She needed him.
And he needed her.
“You want to get out of here?” His question was met with a silence that bordered on stony. He could throw a million things at her—she’d accomplished her goal of checking on Albert, had complimented Irma on the potatoes and had even managed to squeeze in giving Tammy a job, however temporary. She was tired, she had to work tomorrow, the moon was shining—anything and everything would have been a good reason to walk out of Albert’s kitchen and away from her exposed vulnerability.
He kept his mouth shut and waited. Couldn’t push her. A woman like Dr. Madeline Mitchell needed to pull. She was that damn good at it.
“With you?”
He let the question settle in the air for a minute longer. “If that’s what you want.” Something in her face changed, something that took it from chilly to amused without moving a muscle.
Damn, she was beautiful. And even if she didn’t understand, she was still here. He couldn’t help it. Three condoms in his wallet were proof of that. Leaning forward, he whispered, “If that’s what you need, Madeline. What do you need?”
Oh, she was going to let him sweat. That much was clear when it looked like she bit her cheek to keep the smile hidden and tried to glare at him. She couldn’t lie to him. She just had no idea how bad she was at it.
Sighing, she looked around the kitchen, then peeked out into the living room. “Everyone seems okay.” Her voice danced across his ears. She turned to face him and there was that challenge again, the glacier he wasn’t near done climbing. “I guess I’m done here. Will you carry the duffel back to my Jeep?”
She couldn’t lie to him. He could only hope she wasn’t lying to herself.
Chapter Eleven
The air, colored with smoke and moonlight, did little to clear the weird fog from her head. Yes, Albert doing that medicine man thing had freaked her out, but just a little. And the part where he spoke English for only about the third time? No big deal. For all she knew, he’d been practicing those two lines. A special thank you from a special man. That’s all. She should have been thanking him. She’d had dinner at his house. Not a big deal at all.
What was a big deal, however, was her shocking inability to get her damned mouth shut as she watched Rebel carry her duffel. She was only vaguely aware of the fact she was swaying in the breeze, even though the air was still. The muscles in his forearms clenched and unclenched as he picked up her duffel like it was a bag of cotton balls and carefully set it in the trunk. Those muscles weren’t the only things clenching and unclenching. Her muscles—between her legs, across her chest—that she knew she had, anatomically speaking, but had never really had much personal experience with, were doing strange things. Things that hurt in a bizarre, good way. Things that demanded attention, a very certain kind of attention.
And what was a huge deal was the way he leaned against the side of the Jeep, arms crossed and that know-it-all smile that drove her nuts during daylight hours doing its damnedest to melt her in the moonlight.
Things clenched again. God, it hurt. And there was something in his smile that promised the rest of the evening would be wonderfully pain free.
She was not just going to throw herself at that smile. A woman had to have her principles, even if she couldn’t quite recall what those principles were at the moment. “Thank you,” she managed to get out without melting. Lost in a fog of confused thoughts and muscle spasms, the first thing that surfaced was supplies. He’d said he had supplies. “For helping me with that.”
“You’re welcome. And you’re doing it again,” he replied as he slid one hand under her hair. In less than a heartbeat, his fingers were wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer.
The warmth spread like a fever from her neck all the way down. So what if they were within earshot of everyone? Parts of her—oh, hell, who was she kidding?—all of her wanted him to touch more than just her neck. Just thinking about how close she’d been to an honest-to-God, one-handed climax a mere five days ago was enough to make her want to do bad, bad things. Her muscles clamped down with a spike of pain. “Doing what?” That’s what she came up with? Excellent. He was outflanking her within earshot of the party.