“Why?” she asked, fascinated in a way she couldn’t explain even to herself. “Kids not for you?”
He shrugged. “My ex seemed to think I don’t do love, at least not the kind of love a family requires. Said I wasn’t good with people.”
“You were married?” She was surprised, though she shouldn’t have been. Matthew Bowers was a catch.
“For about twenty minutes,” he said. “Just after I got out of the military.”
“When you were a cop,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Is that why she thought you weren’t family material?” she asked. “Because of your job?”
“Partly. And partly because I failed her. But mostly because she was pissed off at me.”
Amy wanted to ask how he’d failed, but that felt too intimate, especially given that she was lying in his arms with his ice pack on her ass. But his ex’s words didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the sort of guy to fail a stranger, much less someone he cared about. What he’d done for her today proved that. His job might have brought him here to check on her, but it hadn’t been his job or responsibility to stay the night with her and keep her safe.
And yet he’d stuck.
She’d had people in her life who had been responsible for her and hadn’t stuck. “Matt?”
His wordless response vibrated through his chest to hers, and he turned his head so that his face was in her hair, inhaling as he rubbed her back.
“I think you’re pretty good with people,” she said softly.
She could feel him smile against her. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Now tell me about you.”
“Nothing as interesting as you.”
“Try me,” he said.
That was the last thing she intended to do. “Well, I don’t have an ex-husband…”
“How about a mom? Dad? Siblings?”
“A mom. We’re not close.” An understatement, of course. Her mom had gotten pregnant as a teen and hadn’t been mom material. “I was raised by my grandma, but she’s gone now. She died when I was twelve.”
“Any other family?”
No one she wanted to talk about. “No.”
He tightened his arms around her, a small, protective, even slightly possessive gesture. It should have made her claustrophobic.
It didn’t.
They fell quiet after that, and Amy wouldn’t have imagined it possible since she was snuggled up against a very solid, very sexy man, but she actually fell asleep.
She woke up what must have been hours later, as dawn crept in, poking at the backs of her eyelids. For a moment, she stayed utterly still, struck by several things. One, she was no longer cold. In fact, she was quite warm, and the reason for that was because she’d wrapped herself like a pretzel around her heat source.
Matt.
She cracked open an eye and found him watching her from his own heavy-lidded gaze. He was looking pretty amused at the both of them. “Hey,” he said, and to go along with that bedroom gaze he also had a raspy early morning voice. Both were extremely distracting. He wasn’t looking like a forest ranger right now. He was looking sleepy, rumpled, and sexy as hell.
“Are you taking this anywhere?” he asked.
Not exactly a morning person, it took her brain a moment to process what he meant. And then she realized that by “this,” he was referring to the fact that her hand had drifted disturbingly low on his abs. If she moved her fingers even a fraction of an inch south… “Sorry!” Face hot, she pulled back and closed her eyes. “This is all Mallory’s fault.”
“Actually,” he said, looking down at his obvious erection. “It’s not.”
“No, I mean—” She broke off at his low, teasing laugh and felt her face flame again. “She sent you out here because she thinks something’s going on with us.”
“Is there something going on with us?”
She didn’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Or an eight-inch one. “It has nothing to do with us. It’s payback for how I set her up with Ty at the auction a few weeks back.”
“What if it’s not?”
She met his warm gaze. “Not what?”
“Payback,” he said.
Their legs were entwined. At some point in the night, the sleeping bag had fallen away so that there was no barrier between them. He was warm and hard.
Everywhere.
She felt herself soften as the heat of arousal built within her. Worse, her fingers itched with the need to touch him.
“Amy.” Matt’s voice was pure sin, not a warning so much as a statement, and her hands reacted without permission, migrating to his chest.
“Mm,” rumbled from his chest as he slid a hand into her hair, tilting her head up to his. He searched her gaze. “You’re all the way awake, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just making sure,” he said, then rolled her beneath him.
Chapter 5
Other things are just food. But chocolate is chocolate.
Matt had given distance his best shot but it hadn’t worked out. As he pressed Amy into the sleeping bag, her teeth bit into that plump curve of her lower lip again. Her breathing went erratic, and her pulse raced at the base of her throat. Her gaze darkened with the same thing turning him inside out.
She wanted him.That was only fair since he’d wanted her for months. Ever since he’d first caught sight of her in the diner working her ass off, the tough, wounded, beautiful woman with the heartbreaking smile that didn’t quite meet her amazing eyes.
At the moment, she looked softer than usual. Her long, side-swept bangs were sticking up a little in one spot, falling across her forehead in another. Her mascara had smudged. She’d been driving him bat-shit crazy all night, her and those mile-long legs, which were tangled up in his. He’d always been a confirmed ass man, but Amy seemed to be expanding his horizons.
She was still wearing his sweatshirt and now it smelled like her. He wanted to shove it up to her chin and nuzzle every inch of her. And then kiss. And lick… All the erotic possibilities played in his mind, and he lowered his head until his mouth was only a breath from hers, giving her a moment to think about what was going to happen between them.
She stared up at him, her fingers in his hair. “Yes,” she breathed, barely audible.
He kissed her then, and the soft, little sound that escaped her went straight through him like fire. Her hands tightened on him as if to hold him to her. Not that he was going anywhere. Hell, no. For months, he’d wondered how she’d taste, if the reality would be as good as the dreams. They were.
She tasted like heaven.
This was made all the sweeter by having her amazing body shrink-wrapped up against his, a situation that was blowing brain cells left and right. Hoping he had enough to spare, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth wider on hers.
She made the sound again, a small murmur deep in her throat that held as much surprise as arousal. He could feel her heart pounding. No, wait, that was his, because for the first time in all these months, she’d let him in. Not only had she let him in but she’d melted against him, completely surrendering, pressing her warm body to his. Sliding her fingers in his hair, she murmured his name against his mouth, squirming closer, then closer still.
And just like that, he was in deep, deeper than he’d been in some time. Warning bells clanged in his brain, but anticipation and erotic thrill overrode them. Slanting his mouth more fully over hers, he took everything she gave, wanting more still. So goddamn much more. He wanted all of her, panting his name, na**d and writhing beneath him. Reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt, he went still when from outside the tent, he heard something—pine needles crunching. Someone was out there, walking around, and he lifted his head.
“What?” Amy whispered, hands still in his hair, her mouth wet from his. “A bear?”
He shook his head. Whatever was out there, it was definitely of the human variety. “Wait here.” Rising off her in one fluid move, he adjusted himself as he left, not particularly wanting to meet an intruder with a boner in his pants the size of… well, the tent he’d just vacated.
The morning was so foggy he couldn’t see much more than a few feet in front of himself but he carefully searched the clearing.
Empty of any mysterious intruders.
But someone had been here, he could see the footsteps in the morning dew. He checked out his truck, but everything seemed the same, with the exception of the flashlight he’d left on his rear fender. That was gone.
“Find anything?”
Matt turned to Amy. She stood with her back to the tent, a Swiss Army Knife in hand, ready for action. Her hair was wild, her wrist bandaged, her stance making it clear that she was ready to rumble. She was still in his sweatshirt, and he’d never seen anything so sexy. Probably she could wear a potato sack and he’d think she looked sexy. Probably he needed to also get a grip. “Nice job on the waiting thing,” he said.
“I don’t do the waiting thing.”
Right. She could take care of herself. Message received loud and clear—except that it was his nature to do the taking care of, though really he should be over that by now. It’d been that exact characteristic that so completely detonated his life back in Chicago.
Which is why he was here. He needed to remember that. He was here for the quiet mountain life. It suited him. He liked being on his own, liked it a lot, and didn’t plan to change that status anytime soon.
And yet here he was, wanting Amy. Unable to stop himself, he lifted a hand, cupping her face, running the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. She might look damn tough and on top of her world, but she sure was soft to the touch.
And he wanted to eat her up for breakfast. It’d be off the charts, he had no doubt.
But she took a step back. Okay, he’d expected that. Hell, he’d expected that last night, and he moved to his truck, grabbing his last Dr. Pepper—grateful their thief hadn’t stolen that, too. He cracked it open and offered it to Amy first.
She went brows up. “Dr. Pepper for breakfast?”
“Breakfast of champions.”
She took a sip, then studied him, looking amused. “What are you going to do if I drink it all?”
“Cry.”
She laughed and lightened the tension considerably. Then he fell a little bit in love when she handed him back the rest of the soda.
“Not exactly what I’d have chosen for breakfast,” she said.
Yeah. Him either.
They left shortly after that. Amy had to get to work, and she knew that Matt did, too. He would have taken her to the diamond rocks first but it was too foggy.
Plus then there was the real reason she’d passed on his offer. She wanted to be alone when she went and searched for her grandparents’ initials.
And her hope…
An hour later, Matt had dropped her at her car, and she’d driven home. She took the longest shower known to man, not getting out until she ran out of hot water. When she’d dried off, she swiped the mist from the mirror and stared at herself. “You kissed him?”
Her reflection nodded, you ’ho.
Amy had no idea what she’d been thinking at all. Actually, she hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. She’d been feeling. Far too much.
At least there’d been no witnesses, she told herself. Well, except for their mysterious guest. With Amy’s luck, that mysterious guest had been Lucille, and Amy and Matt would end up on Facebook as engaged, or something equally horrifying. Wouldn’t that just make Mallory happy.
But would it make you happy?
The errant thought appalled her. She didn’t need a man complicating her life, and she didn’t need one to be happy either. Her life was complicated enough, thank you very much. She was very busy following her grandma’s footsteps to find… well, she wasn’t sure exactly, but hopefully she’d find herself.
Except, said a small voice, if you really were interested in finding yourself, you’d have let Matt take you to the rocks.
And really, what was she so afraid of? That she’d get to the end of Rose’s journey and Amy’s life would still be… meaningless? Because she didn’t need a journey to feel that way. Her life made her feel that way, and had since her grandma had died.
Amy hadn’t handled that scene too well. She was the first to admit it. By that time, her mom had pulled herself out of the gutter and had snagged a really great guy, the measurement of “great” being the size of his bank account, of course. Coming from the wrong side of the tracks to the only side that mattered, Amy had become the poster child for Poor Little Rich Girl, bumping up against a society she’d never been a part of and couldn’t possibly understand. She’d chafed at the rules and had behaved textbook predictably, acting out with all sorts of mayhem. And she’d been good at it.
Until the day she’d run into real trouble. Bad trouble. Holy-shit trouble, and for once, it hadn’t been her own doing. No, that honor had gone to her stepfather, who’d decided she needed to give him a little of what she was so freely giving to the boys her own age.
But he’d been no boy.
Amy had always been able to intimidate anyone who’d invaded her space without permission, but not him. Scared for the first time in her life, she’d tried to get help. But no one had believed her.
She’d been on her own.
She’d been on her own ever since, and it’d worked out just fine for her. She didn’t need anyone.
But once in a while, like now, she felt a little flicker of need. Just to be held. Touched.