Oh no. What if Liza saw his bike out front? Raina slipped out of bed, the wood floor cool against her bare feet. Liza had given her the guest room on the main floor, with the en suite bathroom and access to the tiny sitting porch on the side of the house. Raina pulled back the eyelet curtains and spied the bike across the street, as if he were visiting the neighbors, and remembered him parking it there.
Thank you, Owen. See? Trustworthy.
She reached for her robe, slipped it on. Spied his clothes scattered around the floor. She picked up his dress shoes and set them beside the wicker chair. His pants lay crumpled in a heap, so she folded them, then found his shirt on the back of the wrought-iron bed frame. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling his fragrance. A touch of last night’s cologne, the sense of adventure in the wind-scented cotton.
What if he brought her up to the Christiansens’ Evergreen Resort, invited her into today’s family plans?
The scents of breakfast slid under the door. Bacon, possibly eggs. Aunt Liza would be in the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of capris styled with splatters of paint from her pottery studio, her long dark hair tied back.
Her stomach clenched, but she couldn’t exactly join Liza at the counter, could she? Not with a guy in her room. When she moved in, she’d practically had to take a blood oath that she’d attend church with her aunt every week—the one caveat to living here rent-free.
No. She’d feign sleeping in and wait until Liza left. Pray—er, hope—that her aunt didn’t know the bike outside belonged to Owen.
It wasn’t like Raina was going to behave this way again. She’d simply had a moment of weakness or . . . or love. Yes, love.
At least what could be love, someday.
The shower turned off. She heard humming and nearly rested her hand on the door. Instead she glanced in the mirror over the bureau, ran fingers through her hair.
The bathroom door opened. Owen emerged with a towel hitched low around his hips, the hard planes of his athlete’s body glistening with the remnants of water.
Raina felt her face heat and glanced away. So she hadn’t exactly come to terms with her behavior last night.
“Did you sleep well?” she said.
He advanced into the room, and for a second she thought he’d stop, take her into his arms. But he scooted past her, leaving the fragrance of freshly showered male in his wake, and headed for his clothes. “I gotta run.”
“Oh.” She didn’t look at him, feeling naked as he climbed into his dress pants. “I thought we could have breakfast together.”
“I don’t do breakfast.”
She startled at his tone, something cool and detached in it. Then she slid her hand to the neck of her robe and closed it. “Okay, could we . . . um . . . ? When am I going to see you again?”
She nearly jumped when his hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him. Still bare-chested, his wet hair in dark, tantalizing curls around his face. He hadn’t shaved, of course, his whiskers blond and ragged across his chin.
“I had a good time last night, Raina,” he said with a smile. “Thanks.” He ran his finger along the base of her jaw, then leaned in and kissed her.
Pitiful her, she wanted to lift her arms, tangle them around his neck, but he made no moves to deepen the kiss. To hold on.
In fact, when he pulled away, he winked. “I’ll look you up next time I’m in town.”
Look her up . . . ? Oh.
She bit her lip, hating the tremble that began inside as she watched him pull on his shirt, button it, then slip into his shoes. It all reeled in front of her as if in slow motion, and a cold realization slid through her.
Then, as if to add to the surreal, raw truth, Aunt Liza knocked on her door. “Raina, sweetie, I’m not sure if you’re up, but I left you some eggs and bacon on the stove. I’m heading into work.”
Raina froze. Swallowed. “Okay! Thanks! See you tonight.”
Owen waited, his eyes hard, saying nothing until the front door closed. Then, “You live with your aunt Liza?”
She nodded, but not before he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, turning away but not quite stifling a blue word. As Liza pulled out of the driveway in her VW Bug, he moved away from the window.
Hmm. Not quite as cocky as he had been.
But it didn’t erase the hurt when he rounded on her. “Sheesh, Raina, you might have mentioned that.”
“What?”
“We live in a small town. She knows my parents. If she’d caught us—”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” She stood there a moment, shaking. “I thought . . . I thought we had something . . .”
“We did.” He glanced at the bed, found a smile. “Boy, did we.”