Morgan's Law (23 page)

‘Where's everyone gone?' she asked.

‘Home. While they still can. Sometimes when we get a big storm the bridge on the way out of town goes under. It's usually a pretty good idea to head home before the rain hits or you find yourself stuck in town.'

‘Hadn't you better get home?'

‘Most of the causeways on the way out to my place will be under by now with this much rain. I'd rather be stuck here than on the side of the road.'

Stuck here?
Sarah's heart started to beat faster and she tried not to let the panic his words stirred inside her show. Adam staying here . . . all night? But a little smug voice asked whether her reaction was panic—or anticipation.

‘But what about your pop?' she asked. ‘Should you be leaving him out there all alone?'

Adam sent her a lopsided grin, and she tried to tell herself it wasn't in the least bit knowing. ‘He's a farmer from way back, Sarah—he knows how fast the roads go under out here. I called him a few minutes before you came down to check on him and he was heading to bed. He'll be fine.'

‘What if this turns into a flood?'

‘Nah—it's just a storm. Water levels out here drop as fast as they rise. The roads will be clear by tomorrow.'

‘Do you all do a course in meteorology or something?' She struggled to forecast the weather in London—and that was usually rain.

‘Nope—just comes with the job.'

Adam went to help Jack close up early, since everyone had gone home by now, and Sarah made a hasty exit upstairs to make sure all the doors onto the verandah were shut. The main doors leading out from the communal lounge were still open and Sarah struggled to close them against the driving rain as it blew in under the bull-nosed verandah. Within moments she was soaked.

The timber floor of the hallway was wet and Sarah headed into the storeroom to grab a mop before someone slipped. As she walked out of the storeroom with the heavy metal mop bucket in her hand, she gasped as she almost collided with Adam.

‘Everything okay up here?'

‘Just taking care of a small flood in the hallway.' She lifted the bucket a little to show him, then protested as he took it from her grasp. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I'll take care of it. You go have a shower, you're soaked through,' he said, nodding towards her wet shirt which clung to her skin.

He turned away before she could argue, so Sarah went back to her room to retrieve some dry clothes, then hastened down the hall to the bathroom to have a nice hot shower. Undressing, she shut the door to the small shower cubicle and turned on the water. Stepping beneath the warm water, she gave a small sigh and turned around under the spray to let her back and shoulders soak up the warmth. A movement in the corner of her eye made her glance up at the closed door and for a second she froze, paralysed by fear. A large shiny green shape glistened beneath the steam and splashes from the shower; as it moved, Sarah let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Pressed as far as she could get against the cold tiles of the shower, she knew she was well and truly trapped. The massive green frog—the biggest she'd seen in her life— began to make its way up the door of the stall, but the condensation made the task difficult and now and again the frog slipped. Sarah screamed again as it seemed to panic and struggle for a grip, its unhurried climb of a few seconds before turning into an ungainly, slippery wriggle. Sarah was sure it would fall or, worse, jump and land on her.

God, she hated frogs. Hated was in fact too weak a word—she was actually terrified of them. Everything about them repulsed her, from their slimy green skin to their long skinny legs that always seemed poised to jump out at unsuspecting frog phobics such as herself.

The door of the bathroom suddenly banged open and she heard her name being called.

‘Adam!' she cried.

‘What's wrong? Are you hurt?' he shouted on the other side of the cubicle door. It rattled and the movement caused the frog to go into a sideways crawl.

‘Don't open the door,' she said, her voice rising hysterically. ‘You're freaking it out more.'

‘Freaking what out?' He sounded almost as frantic as she did.

The shower stall door was taller than Adam. She couldn't see his head, but she could see his boots in the small gap in front of her. Then suddenly his head popped up beside her, over the wall of the shower stall, and she screamed once more, but in surprise this time. She tried to cover her nakedness with her hands as Adam anxiously looked her up and down, no doubt searching for signs of blood or injury, and seeming to take far too long in the process.

‘What the hell is the matter? What happened?'

‘Stop shouting, you're making it nervous,' she yelled, tears welling in her voice.

He scanned the stall and instantly spotted the source of her distress, shooting her a look of disbelief. ‘You've got to be kidding—this is what you screamed the place down for? Are you crazy? Bloody hell, woman, I thought you were being attacked.'

‘Get it out of here!'

‘It's just a frog.'

‘I know what it is—get it out of here,' she shouted.

Shaking his head, he dropped back down and disappeared from sight.

‘Adam? Don't leave me alone in here with this thing!'

‘Calm down, I'm just getting something to stand on,' he called back, his voice drifting away as he left the bathroom. He returned with a clatter and bang of the door.

Sarah hadn't taken her eyes off the frog. It had tucked its ugly limbs in tightly against its body in the corner of the door. She'd never get past it without either squashing it or scaring it into jumping straight at her.

Heaving himself up and over the wall of the cubicle, Adam swore as he dropped to the wet tiles below, straightening slowly. As he made to turn around and face her, Sarah hit his shoulder. ‘Don't look at me! Get rid of the damn frog.'

‘Jesus, Sarah, would you calm down,' he said.

‘Don't tell me to calm down! Just get rid of it!'

She watched as he leaned across to capture the fat, slimy monstrosity and she yelped as the creature tried its best to escape his large hands. One look at the long gangly legs frantically kicking in the air as Adam struggled to keep hold of it and Sarah was once again near hysterical. ‘You're going to drop it!'

‘I am not going to drop it. Just move past me and open the door.'

‘I can't.'

‘Just lean past me, Sarah. I'll keep it out of the way.' The frog increased its struggles, its legs thrashing about as it tried to squeeze itself from Adam's grasp, obviously not impressed at being manhandled. ‘Sarah, I can't open the door. If I let go it's going to get loose. I've got hold of it, and I give you my word I won't let it get away. See, I'll turn and keep it over here until you open the door.'

Cautiously, she shuffled her way behind him. The cubicle wasn't designed for two people and she found herself pressed against him in order to lean around and unlock the latch. The fact that she was naked and dripping wet was not lost on her, but at this stage, fear was outweighing mortification. As the latch popped open, she quickly jumped back, Adam moving with her to allow the door to swing backwards as it opened.

Wasting no time, Sarah slammed the door shut the moment he was out of the cubicle, and gave a shudder of revulsion and relief. Now the frog was gone she could think clearly and was able to grab her towel from the small bench near the door. She hastily rubbed herself dry and yanked on her clothing in record time. She poked her head around the bathroom door; there was no sign of Adam or the frog—thankfully!—so she scampered down the hallway and into her room.

Twenty-One

Scrunched up against the headboard of her bed, Sarah wrapped her hands around her knees and hugged herself tightly. Yes, it was an irrational fear; yes, she was an intelligent modern woman who could move mountains if she had to; but she'd never liked frogs. She'd always been scared of them, even as a very small child, and after she'd been pinned down and had one shoved down her shirt by a school bully when she was eight, it had developed into a full-blown phobia. And of all the people to have witnessed her meltdown, it had to be Adam bloody Buchanan!

As if on cue, there was a soft knock at her door and she gave a groan of humiliation. Adam knocked again, louder, and asked if she was okay.

‘I'm fine. Thank you.'

‘Sarah, open the door. I'm not leaving until I see you.'

See her? Hadn't he already seen more than enough of her tonight? But when he rattled the doorknob impatiently, she knew he was serious about staying put and decided to just get the necessary scene over and done with. As she opened the door, Sarah gave a tired sigh. Reluctantly she lifted her gaze to meet his and was relieved to find there was no amusement there. She already felt a big enough fool without his laughing at her.

‘I took it away.'

‘Thank you.' She looked down again. ‘I don't like frogs.'

‘No kidding.'

‘Lots of people have phobias, all right? Mine just happens to be frogs.'

‘It can't hurt you, though—it's a frog.'

She began quickly pacing the floor in front of her bed. ‘I knew you wouldn't understand. You're not afraid of anything! But unfortunately there are a few of us mere mortals who have irrational fears and that's just the way it is.'

‘You scared the hell out of me, Sarah.'

‘Well, it scared the hell out of me too. Look, thank you for coming to my rescue yet again, but I don't feel up to being tonight's joke. I've made a big enough idiot of myself already.'

Adam stepped in front of her, forcing her to look up at him as he caught her hand. ‘I admit I don't understand a phobia of frogs, but I do recognise real fear when I see it.

I'm not making fun of you, Sarah. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.'

‘Nothing a dose of short-term memory loss won't cure,' she muttered.

‘I hope I don't get that. It'd be a crying shame to erase what I saw in that shower tonight.'

Sarah felt her face flame red as a fresh surge of humiliation washed over her. ‘The crazy, hysterical woman screaming at a frog?'

‘No, the gorgeous naked one.'

‘You weren't supposed to be looking.' Her half-hearted rebuke had a definite lack of sting to it. It wasn't as though he'd had much choice. She hated to think what she would have done had he not swung over that wall.

A slow, sexy grin spread across his face. ‘Just so you know, I'm a gentleman; at the time, I was not perving on you.'

Sarah shut her eyes briefly, wishing the whole horrible event would turn out to be a dream when she opened her eyes . . . Nope. Adam was still there—too close for rational thought and smelling better than a man who'd been working behind a bar most of the night had a right to smell.

She held her breath as he slipped his hand under the hair at the base of her neck and brushed his lips against hers. A small moan escaped her throat and she involuntarily closed her eyes again.

His lips forged a trail down her neck, bringing goosebumps to her arms and disconnecting her brain from the rest of her body. Between deep kisses, they somehow moved across the room until Adam found the edge of the bed.

Blue eyes—so deep and dark with longing they almost brought her undone—held her gaze, strong and steady, waiting for her to make the first move.

Tentatively she moved her hands from around his wide neck and towards the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she began to slide them from their holes, giving a small triumphant sigh as the fabric fell open to reveal a strong, lean chest. She pushed him backwards, giving a small shriek as he pulled her with him onto the bed. His smug chuckle was short-lived though as the first touch of her lips against his neck caused a catch in his breathing. Encouraged by his reaction, Sarah began planting a path of small soft kisses down the centre of his chest. As she hovered a breath away from his belt buckle, Adam reached down and pulled her back up against his chest.

‘Not that I'm complaining about where this is headed, but it's been a while, Sarah, and I can only grit my bloody teeth for so long.' Adam took swift control of the situation, lightly flipping her onto her back. ‘If you want this to last longer than a nanosecond, we'd better pace ourselves . . . like marathon runners.'

Sarah wound her arms around his neck and shook her head. ‘The thing about marathons is they take
forever
to get to the finish. Trust me on this one, Buchanan—I need a sprint more than I need a marathon right now, so, if you don't mind, we'll pace ourselves
later
.'

When he looked like he wanted to debate the issue further, Sarah took matters into her own hands—literally— and thus ended the debate.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Sarah was finally able to string together a coherent train of thought. When she left London feeling so empty and disenchanted a few weeks earlier she could never have imagined that she'd be able to trust another man to get this close. But that was before Adam Buchanan launched his full frontal assault and began showing her a whole new dimension to sex . . . and not just any sex—it was
good
sex! The toe-curling, mind-blowing, mess-up-your-hair-and-smear-your-makeup kinda sex—and Sarah couldn't believe
she
, of all people, was having it. Man, had she been missing out! Who knew country boys were so talented?