Trystan returned to kneel by her. “We should go home.”
“I’m okay now.” She tried to stand but he kept a hand on her shoulder. “Truly, Trystan. I let myself get caught up in the moment and didn’t listen to Paige fast enough. Thank goodness she was insistent. Let me just check my A1C level to be sure.”
She tunneled her hand into the waterproof bag and pulled out a small pouch and her cell phone. She noticed him wincing when she pricked the side of her finger and tested the blood. Funny how she didn’t even think about it, she was so used to living with the condition.
Reading the results, she smiled in relief. “All’s good. I’ll just log it into the app on my phone, then recheck later. Thank you for your help and for being concerned.”
“Of course. I just wish I’d paid closer attention and noticed signs sooner—”
“You couldn’t have known.” She braced a hand on his chest, the hard wall of muscle warm beneath her palm.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to explore. His pupils widened with awareness as his eyes narrowed, lasering in on her.
Her throat moved in a long swallow, and she couldn’t resist the need to lick her lips. His gaze flickered over her mouth, lingering.
“Isabeau,” he said simply, his voice husky.
She knew she should push him away. She’d promised herself she would keep him at arm’s length. And yet she ached for him, ached for his kiss, ached to find out if she’d imagined their explosive connection.
Before she could finish the thought, she swayed toward him. Her eyes slid closed as their lips met and she melted into the sensation. The salty scent of him. The strength of his arms around her. The echo of the husky growl in his throat.
Her fingers crawled up his chest to his cheek, bristly from an afternoon shadow. Everything about the kiss was more than she remembered. Maybe because they were in the bright sunlight that left a glow even behind her closed eyes. The wind rolling in off the water gave an expansive feeling to the moment, uncontained by walls. The taste of him was crisp and tangy, and it stirred a hunger that seared her veins with every throbbing heartbeat.
And as she angled away from a kiss that had to end because taking it further was too dangerous, she couldn’t escape the truth.
She’d just made a huge mistake.
Because now she wanted him more than ever.
* * *
He couldn’t decide if kissing Isabeau had been a good idea or not. She’d clearly wanted him, and he’d been off balance from the scare of her nearly passing out in the kayak, and he vowed to do some internet research on diabetes once he was home.
And he also vowed that one impulsive kiss would not derail his bigger goal of winning her into his bed.
After she’d pulled back, she’d been all business again, talking about them packing the boats and eating their picnic food in the car instead as they returned to the house. She had emails to check and calls to return. And he’d lost track of all she’d listed. He’d been more focused on watching her, gauging her mood and deciding how best to proceed.
For now, he’d decided that since she wanted to ignore the kiss, he would go along with that. It was certainly better than having her declare it couldn’t happen again.
Progress of sorts.
A progress that gave an extra kick to his steps as he walked into his great room after showering.
To find Isabeau waiting.
For the moment at least, she seemed unaware of his presence, which gave him an opportunity to study her.
Her hair was piled on her head, glistening with dampness. So she had showered too. She’d changed into leggings and a flowing white shirt that called to his hands to tunnel underneath.
But he was learning that slow and steady was the better move with her. He didn’t want her to run, the way she had after their encounter at the boathouse. He needed to use their time together wisely.
Striding deeper into the room, he looked closer and what he found surprised him. He’d expected to discover her with her computer or tablet, but instead she was...pulling yarn out of a bag. Shock left him too surprised to ask why she wasn’t answering all those emails and calls she’d mentioned back at the water.
Legs tucked to her side, Isabeau fished a crochet hook from her blue paisley bag, settling deeper into the left side of the light tan sofa.
She looked up at him, her red hair falling into her face slightly, contrasting with those bright blue eyes. “What’s with the frown?”
“I’m just...surprised, maybe even a little confused.”
“I’m just crocheting.” She tugged more of the yarn free.
A few strides took him past Isabeau and the living area to the outer wall made entirely of windows. From over his shoulder, he called, “Why?”
“It’s relaxing and productive at the same time. I decided to give myself a chance to settle before getting back to work.” She shifted her legs to the other side, tucking a throw pillow behind her.
Scanning the horizon, he took a steadying breath. Concern for her health—and maybe an unborn baby’s health—weighed heavily on his mind, despite the normally calming effects of the sprawling landscape peppered with pines and other evergreens.
Since the construction of this ranch-inspired building, Trystan had felt, even if it wasn’t a permanent feeling, at home here. If there were ever a physical building that fit his state of mind, it was this place. Every detail reflected Trystan’s soul, from the carved wooden figurines of moose and bears to the sweeping panorama of the Alaskan wilderness supplied by the wall of windows.
After a few moments, he made his way back to the hearth and sofa area where Isabeau sat with her yarn. “How do you feel?”
“I feel great. Really.” She smiled reassuringly. “And yes, I checked my blood
