Golden's Rule (7 page)

She muttered something under her breath but nodded. He held in the grin because he thought she’d said ‘in your dreams’ and if she had, yeah, he had to agree. She was more than any dream he’d conjured up, that was certain.

His phone buzzed again, no doubt Jaxon and more of his rumours. “I gotta get that. I might have to leave for a bit, but I won’t be long.”

He waited for her to say something. Her shoulders tensed, but she nodded. “I might take a nap, if that’s okay.”

“Beauty.” He turned her by her slender shoulders and ignored his phone. “You can do anything you’d like. I merely ask you don’t leave the grounds. I think a nap might be wise. Then something to eat.”

She pinched her lips together, studying his face for a long moment before she nodded. “I can cook something, maybe. Pasta?”

“Uh, are you sure you can cook? I mean…” Her look dared him to go on and he backed out of the subject. Cooking had always been a mystery for him, but if she didn’t burn the place down, great. “I don’t know what’s here.”

She watched him a second longer, as if she knew he was making this up as he went along, and when he didn’t say more, she nodded. “I’ll look around.”

“Sure, look around. It’s yours for as long as you need it.”

He swallowed hard to clear his throat of a sudden tightness. His brother had loved this hunting lodge. It was one reason Torque kept it clean and in good condition.

Not moving a muscle, he watched as she lifted a hand and cupped it along his jaw.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I grumped at you, I guess a girl doesn’t like a man to see her…”

“Throwing up in a toilet?”

She smiled and the effect of that sweet look, directed at him, hit right in the chest. His body hummed to immediate readiness, his dick swelled even harder until he knew the head had shoved past the waistband of his jeans. Holy hell.

“Yes. That. Thank you, for holding my hair and coming to the rescue.”

He nodded, barely managing not to bend his head and take her sinfully soft lips. She’d be offended, he just knew, probably mortified since she’d just lost her lunch, but he wanted to kiss her so badly he ached. Instead of taking what he wanted, he loosened his hold on her shoulders and backed down and out of the bathroom.

“I’ll only be a little while. Try to rest.”

She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Sure thing. I’ll be fine.”

He walked before he kissed those smiling lips. She’d not said a thing about his erection. Not a word, but he’d seen interest in those lovely eyes. Interest and something more. He frowned and leaned his head on the door between them. Shit. He was in trouble. Just that one touch and he knew he’d not be able to stop himself from taking her sweet body. He wanted to feel her touch…everywhere.

Trouble was, what would he do after?

He couldn’t have a forever with anyone. He only had the now. His curse made sure of that.

He lifted his head and stared at the door. He’d just have to make sure to make the now something she’d remember.

Then he’d have to turn her over to Sorcha.

Chapter Four

Saying she could cook and finding something to use were two very different things. He had stuff, just not a lot of it. Old stuff too, if she had to guess. She had managed to find spaghetti pasta, a can of tomatoes that looked promising, fresh garlic, which was a surprise, old-looking shaker parmesan cheese in the back of the huge refrigerator and an onion with a nice green sprout growing out of it in his crisper.

And vodka, bourbon, tequila, and all sorts of other dusty, expensive-looking bottles of alcohol. There was cocoa powder, some flour that had seen better days, even a few eggs, but not much else. Even those things seemed odd to her. It was as if he lived here, but didn’t.

She grabbed a few things, her mind elsewhere as she tried to remember, but not remember a recipe for pasta sauce. The pain didn’t explode down her back, so she must have found a way to think about what she wanted to do, without shifting the heavy blackness concealing her past. The thought made her shiver. Were her memories there, just beyond her reach? Again, she pushed the idea away and focused on simply cooking, not analysing how she knew what she was doing. Once she had the odd assortment of miscellaneous items on the glossy countertop, a picture of a red sauce, rich with tomatoes and spices flashed in front of her eyes. Vodka Sauce.

Her hands trembled.

The assortment of jars could make a meal. How she knew, she wasn’t going to think about too closely. The reminder helped. If she could just focus on cooking, she’d be okay. Decided, she stared around the kitchen once more and then back at the counter. He didn’t have anything for a salad, though, and she craved greens. A salad with pecans and blue cheese or a Greek salad with spicy peppers. Her stomach twisted on emptiness. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

“Probably a few hours. Stop being so jumpy, just cook.” It felt like forever.

Maybe she’d missed something. Turning back to the refrigerator proved useless. She couldn’t find anything resembling edible greens outside of the sprouted onion. The refrigerator had a container of half-and-half that was still okay, some butter, and that was it. He didn’t even have salad dressing. No old mustard. No ketchup. What kind of house was this? He didn’t actually live here.
Yeah, but he must visit, right?

Didn’t matter. She was being nosy. The kitchen was an amazing contrast of old wooden counters and new stainless steel appliances. The wooden floors were glossy. The width of the beams truly amazing. The place felt like a man’s hunting lodge for sure. There was even a huge elk or something on the far wall. Kinda creepy, but she sensed the place was ancient. It had that kind of musty smell of a house closed up for too long without people. So why so clean?

Bizarre.

She opened drawers until she discovered a row of truly impressive kitchen knives. Underneath that fantastic find, she located some olive oil tucked away in the back of an otherwise empty cabinet.

Humming lightly, she began making the sauce only half-paying attention to what she was doing. Her body flushed every time she remembered the look Torque gave her when she’d half fallen out of the shower. She’d felt like an idiot, but one look at his face and one feel of his hard body, and she’d nearly melted at his feet.

And how did you handle that, stupid? Throwing up right in front of the silly man.

Her neck and face grew hot just remembering how she had retched and retched until her stomach hurt and she was breathless.

Torque hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d actually thought it was funny. Not that he’d laughed at her. He’d picked up a towel and wiped her face off. His expression had been so odd—intensely focused, as if cleaning her was somehow important to him. If she hadn’t felt the thick, hard cinder of his erection only moments before she’d spilled her guts in the porcelain, she might have thought he regarded her as a child.

Halfway through the sauce, she realised she needed something to purée it before they ate.

How did she know how to cook? She paused with the spoonful of sauce to her lips and let it fall back in the pot. She wasn’t trying to remember anything. She’d not tried since the bedroom. But she had tried to reach for her magic in the shower. She’d felt something, a warm glow, but with it she’d felt weaker than a kitten and slipped in the soapy bathtub and nearly hit her head against the solid tile wall.

Torque must think her a complete idiot.

He’d not looked at her like one. She’d not missed that moment of ‘oh shit’ on his face when he’d burst through the door, nor the way his eyes had practically smoked with sexual tension. That look had shaken her up more than the painful welts scratching under her skin like a cat trying to get out.

“So, that smells good.”

She screamed and the spoon flew out of her hand, landing on the floor with splatters of red sauce everywhere.

“Shit!”

Torque. She gripped the counter and tried to get her heart rate back to normal. Torque appeared more freaked out than she was. He looked so comical she started laughing and couldn’t seem to stop, especially when he lowered his dark eyebrows and frowned at her. Slowly a smile tugged at his lips and he chuckled. Bending down, he picked up the dropped spoon and caught up a towel from the sink to clean it off with before returning it to her.

“You scared me,” she told him when he faced her again. He wore a rough leather trench coat and his hair was mussed as if he’d run there, but his silver eyes sparkled with a banked heat she now recognised.

“Yeah, I kinda thought so by the shriek.”

The silly man had a wicked sexy accent, with that soft r sound of the Scots or maybe the musical purr of the Irish? It was hard to say, but she found herself listening to his voice then racing to catch what he’d said. “I did not shriek. I was startled, that’s all. Do you have a blender?”

“A blender? No, but I can go get one…” He looked doubtful but before she could say anything, he stepped around her and smelt the sauce. “Smells great. What else do you need?”

She gazed up at him, a bit shocked by the change in attitude. He seemed more relaxed, almost eager to help. Last she’d seen him, he’d been eager to leave. But he’d also been sporting wood like a baseball player…and now he wasn’t.

Of course. He had someone. No wonder he couldn’t stay here. She was such a dork. Complete idiot. A nice meal, him, her, alone…what had she been thinking?

“Uh, I don’t need the blender, and you don’t have to stay, I mean, you probably have someone to get home to?”

She turned and hoped he didn’t hear the question in her voice. The sauce looked good, but it needed that last step of blending with a bit of the cream, then it’d be to die for, but she suddenly wasn’t hungry.

“You kicking me out?”

She turned and saw his big grin. The brat. She shrugged, playing it cool. “I’m sure you have places to go, people, you know, to see.”

His grin grew and she got the feeling he was enjoying himself immensely. His aura practically snapped with something. Happiness? Excitement?

He reached out and brushed a wisp of hair off her face. His knuckles brushed along her cheek before he dropped his hand and folded his big arms over his broad chest. She really tried not to note how his muscles flexed when he did that.

“I got no one, no plans, not a thing besides that for dinner.” He jerked his chin at the stove and winked.

Mmm, so no one, huh?
She turned from him to the stove and paid close attention to the sauce, too nervous to look at him.

He didn’t move, but she sensed he was watching her, almost as if he were trying to put her at ease. He waited less than a minute before suddenly saying, “I’m starved. Nearly. I think we need some bread, and maybe a salad. I’ll be right back.”

She peeked over her shoulder in time to see him lift his gaze from checking out her butt. The thrill that gave her really shouldn’t have made her all wobbly inside. “Ah, we don’t need, I mean you don’t have to bother—”

“Looks like I was wrong. You can cook. So are you. It’s not a bother. Believe me, I’d kill for less than a beautiful woman making me dinner.”

Okay, that was…hot.

“I’ll get the blender, maybe some wine? A salad, bread.” He looked like he was making a grocery list in his head.

“Uh, sure, whatever sounds good.”

He tilted his head and closed the space between them, taking her hand to rub her knuckles and whoa, she felt that all the way to her toes and other much more interesting places.

“Did you nap?”

She nodded because, yeah, her throat suddenly felt too tight. He had seen her naked.
Ah, man, why did I have to remember that now?
He eased closer, until the heat from his powerful frame seeped into her. Breathing became difficult.

“Good. You need to take it easy for a bit, Beauty. Let me go get some stuff, I’ll be back in ten.” He stepped away but didn’t let go of her hand. His gaze swept her up and down and she fought the urge to squirm. The clothes he’d left were warm and comfortable yoga pants and a cropped yoga tank that left her shoulders and abdomen bare. He’d not left her panties or a bra. His eyes lightened from a burnished grey into a blue-silver. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation and he shook his head.

“Damn, I like how those clothes fit.” His grin grew. “I sound pretty Neanderthal, huh?”

She choked on a laugh and smiled. “Maybe, but a lady never points out stuff like that.”

He laughed, a pure, deep sound of pleasant surprise that she instantly liked and wanted to hear again. “I’ll remember that. Do you want me to pick up something else, too, if you’d like—”

She shook her head and he cut himself off mid-suggestion. She couldn’t let him buy her all this—clothes, food—“No, no, don’t. I can’t have you spending money on me like that, I mean—”

He tossed his bangs off his head and interrupted her with a grin. “Listen, I have more money than Donald Trump. You remember him?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I just hope you’re not a jerk like he is.”

Torque shot her another amused look then laughed long and low. “I’m many things, but a jerk? Haven’t been called one.”

The ‘yet’ he left off was like some unspoken challenge. She frowned at him, suddenly unsure of what he was trying to say. Torque was a bad boy to the core, she could tell, but a jerk? She hoped not because he seemed to have changed since he’d returned. He seemed almost like he was excited to be here, with her. Before he’d been hot with lust—lust she caused—but hadn’t done a thing about it. Now? She felt like a deer suddenly caught in the crosshairs of a hunter’s scope. She wasn’t sure how that idea made idea made her feel. Scared. Nervous. Excited. All of the above?

“I’ll be back in a few.”

He dropped her hand, made her knees weak with another killer grin, and turned to stalk out of the kitchen. She leaned against the counter for support and watched him. His leather trench coat made him look bigger than ever, almost giant-size. She knew parts of him were, too. How on earth could a man grow an erection like that? Maybe he was part bull?