“How’s it going, babe?”
Startled, Nell spun around in her desk chair to face the threat before she managed to process that it was just Eamonn. “Oh. Hi. I’m just about done here.”
“Good. I hope you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure if you were, ah, feeling vegetarian today, so I heated up a bunch of different stuff. Probably too much, even.” He had a plastic milk crate full of stacked covered dishes, and a tote bag over his shoulder with what looked like a blender sticking out of the top. A delicious smell wafted over to her and her stomach growled in response.
“Apparently, I’m hungry enough not to care what it is. Let me just finish this—” She brought her attention back to the screen, where the out-of-office autoresponder sequence waited for activation. There. She shut down the computer, punched in the code on the phone to redirect calls to head office. “And we’re done until the storm passes and the roads are open.” She pulled the large, high-powered flashlight from the desk drawer where she’d found it and stood up. “I know there are flashlights in the cottages, but I want this big one if we lose power. Let’s go. Can I carry something?”
“I’m good, if you get the doors and light switches?”
Nell shot him a grin. “Oh, you’re letting me get doors for you now?” She almost bounced ahead of him to the office door, feeling full of freedom and holiday — it was raining and horrible out and they were caught in a storm, but until the flood watch was lifted, they were on a private, almost secret vacation. Alone together.
As she flipped off the lights, she realized how dark the day had become under the heavy cloud cover and gusting rain. It was flying all but sideways, and they were going to get soaked. Eamonn must have seen the thought written on her face, because he said, “I don’t think I can run with all this and my umbrella, but you go ahead if you want to. I’ll follow as quick as I can.”
“We’re getting wet anyway. We’ll stick together.”
As they strode out into the rain, Eamonn laughed. “I wanted to see you wet, babe, but not like this.”
And for no reason that Nell could think of, she smiled sweetly at him and said, “Add in the hot tub, and we can try for three kinds of wet tonight…” It was worth it, just to see the incredulous anticipation light up his face. She moved ahead of him and added a bit of extra sway to her hips as she walked, guessing that his eyes would be fixed on her rear view and feeling oddly fine with that.
By the time they reached the cottage, Nell’s yoga pants were drenched from the bottom of her jacket to the tops of her boots, and rain had run up the sleeves of her coat to saturate the cuffs of her hoodie. As she peeled off her coat and stepped out of her boots on the doormat, she saw that Eamonn’s jeans were soaked across the thighs too, and the rain had blown in under his umbrella to dampen strands of his hair and scatter droplets across his face. Flipping hell, he has no right to be so handsome. It was as though the weather itself had somehow made him more approachable, more touchable — or was that the privacy of being alone, where no one would know or judge what they did?
Damn. Maybe Lila was right that she needed to get laid. She hadn’t wanted to feel this attraction, but there it was, a ridiculous urge to run her fingers through his wet hair and lick the raindrops from his face. Simmer down, Miss Whelan, we’re not rushing into anything. Skipping dinner wouldn’t do anyone any good, no matter what the blatant desire in Eamonn’s eyes promised.
“You want to go get out of those wet things?” he asked, setting down the things he’d been carrying to shrug out of his jacket. “Dinner could be clothing-optional…”
A rush of heat flowed over her, and she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or just plain arousal. “Slow down. I need a little foreplay — and maybe a drink — before we get to the clothing-optional part.”
“Babe, you really do speak your mind. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. And foreplay can definitely be arranged.” He took a step toward her, and she could see the kiss coming, see the moment where he’d take her in his arms and press his mouth to hers.
She shuffled backward. “Dinner first.” I can’t be nervous about this, can I? She’d always taken a practical approach to sex, never shy about her body or safety or making sure she got her needs met.
“Sure thing.” He shrugged, maybe a little bit frustrated or confused, then picked up the milk crate and bag, carried them over to the kitchenette area, and started to unpack. “Go get some dry pants on, then. Or a bathrobe.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“Me?” He stopped shuffling dishes around and turned to face her.
“You can’t be comfortable like that—” She’d only meant his wet jeans, but the moment she said it, she thought of his obvious arousal tenting those jeans, and her eyes flickered there without her meaning to look.
He smirked, and boldly reached down to adjust himself. “I can wait, Nell. And you’re right; if we got started now, even a little, I’m thinking I might forget about eating anything but you. Go strip down to your underwear — for the hot tub, don’t panic — then cover up with your bathrobe and come have some supper before we get into that foreplay you mentioned.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. Finally, she muttered, “You’re so sure of yourself,” and stomped away to the bedroom. It infuriated her that she couldn’t even tell him it wasn’t
