Firefly Glen: Winter Baby (Harlequin Signature Select) (18 page)

Sarah and Parker danced for hours, under silver streamers and pearly white balloons. As he had promised, he never left her side, not even once. They talked to friends, sampled the delicious buffet, drank wine and admired the elaborate ice sculptures, but they didn't ever allow more than an inch of distance between them.

As the night grew late, Sarah gradually began to realize Parker was seducing her with the music, with the movement, with his warm, strong body.

He held her more tightly with each song. His cheek brushed hers softly, came away, and then dipped to hers again. His hand drifted low, his fingers finding the sensitive hollows of her back. She moaned, but he didn't let up. He tightened his hands. He kissed her ear, her bare neck, her shoulder. And all the while he moved, subtly, to the music she only barely heard.

Soon she was a live ember in his hands, glowing for him, aching for him. Her skin felt too tight to hold all the glittering desire she had inside. She could hardly lift her head from his shoulder.

What if he made it happen right here, out on the dance floor? What if this shimmering thrill she felt inside simply exploded like a silent, internal firework? Would everyone know? Would he hold her up, intact? Or would she fracture like a spray of silver confetti and collapse in his arms?

“Sarah,” he whispered. “It's time.”

She had to breathe deeply to find enough air to speak. “Time? I don't know what you—”

“Yes, you do.” He tilted back and smiled into her eyes. That smile alone was almost enough to undo her. She clutched his arms and tried to find her legs, which had suddenly begun to tremble.

“You see, Sarah? Your body is telling you, too. We've waited as long as we can, sweetheart. It's time to take another risk.”

T
HEY RETRIEVED
Sarah's coat and walked to the Jeep without saying much. The temperature must still be dropping, she thought, trying to shrink inside her coat. She was like someone with a fever. Burning up and shivering at the same time.

Every parking space was filled, and cars lined the road, nose to bumper as far as the eye could see. Many had license plates from as far away as Pennsylvania and Quebec. It would take an hour to get out of here.

But Parker obviously wasn't in the mood to be patient. When he found his exit blocked, he cut across the snow, the Jeep bumping over the curb and across the corner of the square. Finally he reached the road again, and his way was clear.

He took Sarah's hand and held it tightly on the seat between them, his finger stroking her palm with a slow, deliberate warmth. She closed her eyes and let the rhythm move through her.

They had been driving several minutes, apparently following the moonlit curve of the lake, before she said anything.

Finally she spoke. “Where are we going?”

“I thought I'd take you home,” he said. “My
home.” He glanced at her, his eyes flashing in the darkness. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

He had never suggested taking her to his house before. They had needed time to get to know each other better before they rushed into anything serious. But they also knew their willpower had limits, so they had forced prudence on themselves by staying out in the open, in crowds, in public. Even at Winter House, someone had always been just around the corner, preventing them from taking this one final, oh-so-dangerous risk.

The house was silent and mostly dark as they came up the driveway, but Sarah fell in love with it instantly. It was a large, two-story modern Adirondack cabin that hugged the western shore of Llewellyn's Lake. It was made of smooth, symmetrical red-pine logs and rose from the surrounding woodlands with a comfortable sense of belonging.

One golden light shone above the gleaming wood porch, and in one of the upstairs windows another light burnished the curtains with a welcoming glow.

It was so quiet out here that Sarah could hear the wind moving through ice-covered pine needles with that haunting, glassy tinkle of wind chimes. It was a sound she'd hear in her dreams forever, she thought. Whenever she dreamed of Parker.

He opened the door and flicked on the interior lights. The entire first floor seemed to be one room, one rich, red-pine room with cool green accents: a hunter-green leather sofa pulled up to a huge, river-
rock fireplace, a green-and-red Oriental carpet spread across the floor; a glossy green philodendron cascading from a built-in bookshelf.

“It's wonderful,” she said. She thought it might be the most peaceful room she'd ever seen. “You can forget, living at Winter House, that simplicity like this still exists in the world.”

He smiled as he draped her coat over a wooden tree, then moved toward the fireplace. The logs were already arranged and ready. He simply drew a long, thick match from a box and struck it against one of the stones.

The kindling caught immediately, and a sweet, smoky smell wafted into the cool, clean room.

“Well, if I had your uncle's income to hire a housekeeping staff, I might buy more knickknacks,” he said, tossing the spent match onto the logs. “On a sheriff's salary, I prefer to keep things low maintenance.”

She shook her head. “This wasn't done on a sheriff's salary,” she said. She had just noticed that the eastern wall was entirely windows, two-stories tall, and they overlooked the lake.

“You'd be surprised how well Firefly Glen pays its employees,” he countered lightly. “These millionaires have forgotten how to think in terms of minimum wage. But actually, you're right. I was a lawyer for several years, and I worked in Washington for a while, too, so I was able to save some. Plus, I was very lucky. I inherited enough money to live comfortably.”

That made sense, looking at this sophisticated room. Its delicate balance of ease and elegance had been achieved by a trained eye, by someone accustomed to living around quality and beauty.

“And yet you work so hard. Why?” She thought of the grief he put up with from the querulous Glenners, the long hours, the freezing nights squaring off against coyotes in people's kitchens. “Why work at all?”

He shrugged. “I work because my folks believed in it. I guess I believe in it, too.” He smiled. “And besides, I'm no good at crossword puzzles, and I hate to fish. What would I do with my time?”

They had been talking to ease the tension, to lower the temperature that had risen so dangerously between them while they danced. But suddenly, with that innocent question, the flame shot once again into brilliant life.

He came over to her. “Of course, now that I've found you, I can think of a few things.”

He put his fingers under her chin and tilted her mouth toward his. A silver sequin tumbled from her hair, sparkling as it fell.

“Maybe I should let Harry have the job. He wants it bad enough. And suddenly I can imagine spending all day, every day, doing nothing.” He smiled. “Nothing but touching you. And looking at you.”

She let her eyes drift shut, the sound of his voice like warm water washing through her.

“And making love to you,” he said softly. He took
a long breath. “God, Sarah. I'm falling in love with you. Do you know that?”

She opened her eyes and looked into his. “Yes,” she said. “I know that.”

“And you are falling in love with me. Do you know that, too?”

She nodded carefully. Her whole body felt as if it were dropping into some terrifying, bottomless space, and yet she knew she hadn't moved an inch.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I know that, too.”

“Then this isn't wrong,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce. “It's right, damn it. It's so amazingly right, and it's going to be beautiful. I want you to believe that. I want you to stop being afraid.”

“I'll try,” she said around the swollen beating of her heart. “I'll try.”

He unzipped her costume with one hand, still holding her chin with the other. She felt the velvet fall apart from her shoulders to her thighs, exposing her naked back to the cold moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

He slid his hand around, the movement pulling the dress from her shoulders. Silver sequins caught the firelight as the velvet slithered over her skin and fell to the floor.

She wore almost nothing beneath, and she suddenly felt more vulnerable, more insecure, than ever before in her life. She didn't really know her own body anymore. The pregnancy had finally begun to change her, subtly still, but unmistakably.

She wondered if the new contours would make her less desirable to him.

But his face was as tense, as focused and hungry as ever. He finished undressing her, and then he lay her on the carpet, close enough to the fire that she could hear it crackling and feel its fingers of heat reaching out to stroke her.

The rug was thick, scratching softly at her back. Closing her eyes, she wrapped one hand across her stomach, the other across the unaccustomed fullness of her breasts.

She heard him remove his own clothes, but she couldn't watch. It seemed impossible, but she already felt the deep, warning clenches of climax moving through her, like the early readings of an earthquake. She was afraid that, if she saw him now, she might not be able to wait.

And then, with a slow animal grace, he stretched himself out beside her. Finally she looked at him, at the bronze, ribboned muscles, the glowing satin skin. She followed the line of firelight and found the beautiful, shadowed power of his erection. Her whole body spasmed once, in unbearable anticipation.

He unwrapped her hands carefully, one at a time. “You have nothing to hide,” he said, bending over to touch his lips to her tingling breast. “Every inch of you is perfect, Sarah. I have never wanted a woman more than I want you now.”

He ran the palm of his hand across the small, hard swell of her stomach, learning it. Loving it. He trailed gentle kisses from one side to the other, and she
groaned, fighting off the waves of climax that threatened to crash over her. It was too soon, too soon. She wanted this to come slowly and last forever.

He paused, obviously registering the tension that rippled through her limbs. “Look at me, sweetheart. What's the matter? Are you still afraid?”

“Not of you,” she said, trying to smile. “I'm a little afraid I'm about to spoil everything. I'm—” She found that her lungs were moving so shallowly she could hardly speak and breathe at the same time. “Things are happening pretty fast. I may not be able to wait for you…for you to…”

He laughed softly. “Then don't wait,” he whispered, bringing his lips to her aching breast once again. “Just let it happen.”

She could hardly think now. He had let his hand drift down, and she was spinning in a private darkness that disoriented her. And the waves kept coming closer. “But I…we…”

“We will. I promise.” He slipped his fingers inside her, and she felt herself tighten helplessly around him as the tide completely overtook her. “It's only the first time you'll feel like this tonight, sweetheart, not the last.”

 

T
HE DAWN WAS PEACHES AND HONEY
. It had spilled onto the pillow, mingling with the tangled gold strands of Sarah's hair. And reluctantly Parker had wakened her with a kiss.

He had to take her back to Winter House, though the idea of having her more than an arm's reach away
from him was almost unbearable. He didn't ever want to open his eyes again, and not see her lying beside him. He didn't ever want to breathe and not find the small flower of her perfume in the air.

But she had to go home. Her uncle would worry. And, though he didn't give a damn what the gossips said, something told him that Sarah wasn't ready for what would happen when the town found out about the change in their relationship.

She had never lived in a small town. She couldn't imagine how intensely connected everyone felt, how entwined their lives, how useless any attempt to keep a secret.

But he knew. He'd lived here too long to delude himself about the gossip that was coming. As his grandfather used to say, Glenners would gossip the tread right off their lips.

When they learned that Sarah was his lover, they would start. And when they learned that she was already pregnant by another man…

Well, even Parker couldn't quite imagine what would happen then. He simply knew that he didn't care. Sarah had brought happiness back into his life, and a sweetness he had stopped believing in years ago. He hadn't ever thought to see it again.

He wanted that sweetness. He wanted Sarah Lennox in his life. In his bed. And as soon as she was ready, he was willing to stand on the top of the Congregational Church steeple and announce it to the world.

But it wasn't that easy. Her life was in Florida, and
she still had an airline ticket for tomorrow morning to prove it.

Tomorrow.

The realization hit him like an electric shock. She planned to go away tomorrow.

What a fool he was. For the past two weeks, they had been living in a fantasy. Their own secret ice kingdom, where the real world didn't intrude. But it was time to come out now. He couldn't dawdle in this haze of smug sexual satisfaction. It was time for discussions and decisions.

Big ones.

“Sarah, we need to talk,” he said. They were almost at Winter House now, though he had driven as slowly as the Jeep would go.

She nodded sleepily, stirring from her drowsy nest against his shoulder.

“I know,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “But not right now. I need to see my uncle. I need to let him know I'm all right. He might be awake, and he might have been worrying.”

“He knew you were with me, Sarah. He hasn't forgotten that much about being young.”

She smiled. “Still.” She ran her fingers through her hair, sending one last rain of sequins onto the black leather of the seat. “I need a nap. I want a bath. And I want some time to think. Last night was…”

“Amazing.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her arm, as if the mere mention of last night had raised goose bumps. He knew, because he felt the same way. “But it was also confus
ing. Sex can cloud your thinking, Parker. We need a few hours to clear our heads before we talk about anything serious.”

“Sex
is
serious,” he said. “That kind of sex is, anyhow.”

She smiled over at him placatingly. “Six hours? Just until noon? I promise we will talk then.”

He couldn't deny her anything when she smiled like that. Oh, hell, he couldn't deny her anything ever.

“Okay,” he said, taking one last kiss as payment. He deepened the kiss and he heard her small whimper as the easy fire caught. He was glad. If he had to suffer, she should suffer, too.

“Just wait,” he said, pulling away, “until you see how long six hours can be.”

 

B
UT IT WAS ONLY TWO HOURS
, really.

Two hours until everything blew up in his face, as if fate had planted one of last night's ice festival fireworks squarely in the middle of his naive little portfolio of happily-ever-after blueprints.

Parker had picked up his puppy from Suzie, who had agreed to keep him while Parker was on twenty-four-hour call for the festival. Then he had come home, showered, redressed and finally passed out on the sofa.

The phone had probably rung a dozen times before he heard it. The puppy was sitting next to the sofa, whimpering to get his attention. Parker put one hand on the puppy's head and reached over his shoulder with the other one, fumbling for the receiver.

It was Sarah.

“Hi,” she said too brightly. “I'm sorry to wake you up. I just wanted to let you know there's been a little hitch. I won't be able to meet you right at noon.”