In the bathroom, she turned on the water and peeled off her clothes. Soon steam began to cloud the room as hot water jettisoned out of the nozzle.
Stepping into the shower, she reached for the bottle of shampoo. Empty. Muttering to herself, she stepped back out of the shower to grab a new bottle from the cabinet.
She’d not taken more than three steps when a slick spot on the tile floor sent both feet shooting out from under her. She landed in a sprawling, floundering heap, hitting the floor so hard she swore the earth shook from the force of it.
For a few moments, she lay in stunned silence, then slowly clambered to her feet and gingerly made her way to the cabinet. Grabbing the new bottle of shampoo, she limped back to the shower.
As she applied the soap, working up a good lather, she noticed the water didn’t seem quite as hot as it had been just seconds before. With her eyes tightly closed, she fumbled with the taps, trying to adjust the temperature. It wasn’t until she had turned off the cold completely that she realized there was no more hot water. At that very moment, the old pipes began to rumble and groan as if building in momentum, and half a heartbeat later, a spray of water from the icy depths of the well hit her squarely in the face.
A squeal of surprise tore from her throat. Sputtering and coughing, she managed to withstand the frigid temperature long enough to rinse out the shampoo, then immediately turned off the tap. Teeth chattering, goose bumps covering her skin, she stepped from the shower, careful to avoid the slick spot this time, and edged her way around the room to the linen cabinet.
She stared in disbelief. The shelves were empty. This morning, there had been at least a dozen bath towels in the linen closet. Now, all that remained were several washcloths and one hand towel.
Dripping wet and shivering, she grabbed the hand towel and began blotting the water from her skin and hair. This was no accident. It had the Morreston name written all over it. Oh, how she hated that damned contract. She wished she could go back in time and do something vile to the ancestor who’d added that insane clause. She combed the tangles from her hair, stepped into her panties, pulled on an oversize T-shirt and slowly counted to ten.
It wasn’t long enough.
The bedroom was in darkness but in the soft glow from the yard light outside, Shea could see Alec’s silhouette sprawled diagonally across the bed. Still shivering, she walked to the far side. His large frame lay on top of the covers and try as she might, she couldn’t dislodge enough of the top sheet and blanket from under his sleeping form to give her even a small amount of warmth.
Suddenly, the urge to whack the horrible man with a blunt object overcame her common sense. A thirst for revenge compelled her to grab the edge of a pillow, yank it from under his head, raise it high and slam it down on top of the sleeping man with all the force she could muster.
“Hey!”
Again the pillow came down on his head.
“What the hell...?”
And again.
“Goddammit, Shea!” He caught her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed, fighting to control her flailing legs and arms. “Stop it! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“You. You’re what’s the matter with me!” she snarled. “Let me go!”
She pushed against him and tried to twist free. He easily controlled her efforts, throwing one leg over hers, catching and holding both her hands above her head and firmly pressing the parts in between against his muscled length.
“I want to know what brought this on.”
“Nothing. Just...nothing. Let me go.”
“Not happening.”
She struggled against him, making one last all-out effort to free her hands before giving up and glaring at him through the darkness. She saw his focus move from her eyes to her mouth seconds before he lowered his head and covered her lips with his own. She tried to turn away, but he effortlessly held her in place. His lips were full and warm and totally enticing. Her mind let go of her earlier frustration and focused on Alec. His slow, lazy kiss made the need to get away from him seem not quite as important as it had seconds ago.
He raised his head and their gazes met through the dim glow from the lights at the barn. It was as though he was offering her a choice. When she didn’t move away, he returned to her lips without saying a word, his mouth claiming hers in a deep and passionate kiss. His tongue entered her, filled her, and gone was any want for him to stop. With a sigh, she gave up the struggle. The passion escalated to raw, hungry need.
Her oversize T-shirt was twisted and stretched tightly over her breasts. She felt the warmth of his hand move up her side to gently squeeze the soft flesh. He lowered his head, placing his mouth over one taut nipple, licking and sucking through the thin material. Shea drew air deep into her lungs, her breasts swelling under his touch. His hot mouth moved to the other breast, bringing it to the same throbbing ache, an ache that shot straight to her core.
Taking one of her hands, Alec directed it down between their bodies, placing her fingers against his sex, holding it there when she would have drawn away. “No. Feel me, Shea. Feel what you do to me.” His voice was low, gritty, as though the tight rein on his emotions was about to shatter.
She became lost in the sensation. Her hand couldn’t fully encompass his girth, but he throbbed under her touch. His lips returned to hers, hungry, wanting. His hand slid down her belly, not pausing until he was cupping her most sensitive flesh. “Open your legs for me, Shea,” he instructed, his voice raw. “Do it.”
The final remnants of hesitation dissolved as she obeyed, raising one leg, allowing him access to the most private part of her. His skilled hands increased her need for penetration to a level of near desperation. All other motion ceased, her body paralyzed, completely enraptured by what he was doing.
Alec was on fire and close to losing it before he ever got inside of her. He wanted her with desperation he’d never before experienced. The sweet smell of her arousal flooded his senses. Her breath rushed in and out as her hands encircled his neck, holding him to her while her hips pushed against his throbbing erection, leaving no doubt in his mind she needed more.
Seconds, maybe less, before he permanently changed the entire situation, the cell phone he’d put on the nightstand began to ring. Its loud, shrill robotic tone infused the moment with cold reality.
All motion stopped. Breathing hard, he opened his eyes. What in the hell was he doing?
With a shuddering regret, Alec rolled to his side, his body protesting painfully, refusing to downshift. He had almost done it again. Making love to Shea was not going to accomplish anything except temporarily easing the pain of arousal. It would open a box full of complications neither one of them needed. He had little doubt that Shea didn’t normally partake in one-night flings. This was something they would both regret, albeit for very different reasons, in the light of day.
The ringing stopped. As he lay next to her, willing his breathing to slow, she turned away from him, rolling onto her side. She didn’t speak, and damn if he knew what to say. He’d honestly never been in this situation, wanting a woman beyond comprehension but knowing it was absolutely wrong, even as she lay in the bed next to him. He swallowed hard. He had to offer her something. He couldn’t ignore her emotions.
“Shea?”
She was quiet for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then her voice reached him through the darkness.
“I understand, Alec.”
Then maybe she could explain it to him.
“It’s this whole horrible situation.” Her voice sounded strained, as though she was struggling not to cry. He sensed a motion. Was she wiping the tears from her eyes? “I no longer know what’s right and what isn’t. I lost the map. I don’t know how I should feel or what I should do. I want my life back. I want my dad not to have died.” She drew a shaky breath. “I want to feel, even for a minute, that I’m not a stranger in my own house. That I’m not alone and fighting against the entire world.”
“Hey.” Alec gently pulled her into his arms, determined to relieve some of the heartache he had no doubt caused. Her head rested on his shoulder. She offered no resistance. “You’re not taking on the world,” he responded. “Just me. And from this side of the bed, you’re doing a pretty damn good job.”
He sensed rather than saw her smile and she sniffed back the tears. Beyond her beauty, she was an honest, caring woman who hadn’t asked for any of this. He felt the urge to tell her she could have the ranch. But he couldn’t. There was already too much invested, both time and money. There were too many people counting on this project for jobs and investors expecting something for their venture. For the first time since coming here, Alec wished he could just walk away. Let Shea’s life return to normal. Hell, let both of them return to doing what made them happy.
That thought brought him up short. When had he last been happy? Before coming here, when was the last time he’d slept throughout the night without waking to pace the floor at 3:00 a.m.? How long had he been working such long hours that he didn’t know if it was day or night? When had he taken the time to reflect on his childhood and his fishing excursions with Grandpa Jacob? When had he spent as much quality time with Scotty? Everything here seemed to move at a much slower pace. But he felt at home here, like a figurine that had found its way back into the mold. And it all revolved around Shea and this ranch. All the good and positive feelings.