Tempted

Stacey grinned, looking pleased with herself. “Yeah, whenever you’re unsure of something, but you want it really bad, repeat those words. Just do it.”

“Just do what?” Jessica asked, returning with a fresh pitcher of strawberry margaritas.

“Anything that strikes your sister’s fancy this week,” Stacey said, holding up her glass as Jessica refilled it with the slushy liquid. “Especially when it comes to men.”

“Brooke is going man-hunting?” Jessica asked, intrigue infusing her voice.

Brooke winced. “That sounds so…reckless.”

“Impetuous is a better word, I think.” Stacey took a sip of her drink, her eyes bright with sensual knowledge. “You just kind of have to go with the feeling and not analyze the situation from every angle like you do those columns of numbers you work with. If it feels right, just do it.”

Brooke chewed on her bottom lip and pondered her friend’s suggestion. When it came to men, she’d always been cautious and selective, even analytical. Even her marriage to Eric had been based on practicality rather than uncontrollable passion—on both their parts, she now knew. They’d both had different expectations of their relationship, and each other, and in the end those individual needs had driven them apart emotionally and physically.

Ultimately, she wanted passionate love, a marriage based on mutual respect, and the kind of solid family unit she’d grown up without. She wasn’t like Stacey, who dated a slew of men, enjoyed the moment while it lasted, and didn’t think about the future. Brooke wanted a future with a man.

One week. Which wasn’t a whole lot when she thought of it in terms of the rest of her life stretching ahead of her.

Brooke took a gulp of her margarita, her mind spinning. Could she shed her inhibitions and have a hot, wild, unemotional fling with a stranger before returning to her stable life and dependable job?

“Tell you what,” Stacey said easily, as if sensing her doubts, “starting tomorrow, we’ll check out the prospects on the slopes and see what’s out there. If sparks happen, then go for it. If they don’t, no loss.”

Sparks, like the kind Marc generated. She shivered at the thought.

“Since I don’t ski, you two are on your own,” Jessica said, settling back on the couch. “I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet in the cabin and get caught up on my medical transcripts.”

“Then it’s you and me, Brooke.” Stacey grinned, lifting her glass in another toast. “And a mountain full of men to choose from.”

Brooke groaned as three glasses clinked together, trying to keep an open mind about Stacey’s man-hunting plan and her new motto for the week.

Just do it.

“JUST DO IT,” Brooke murmured to herself, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice as she wiped the coffee table of the remnants of their afternoon margarita-fest while Stacey and Jessica cleaned the kitchen. The words sounded flat and dull, too much like her personal life.

She snorted in disgust. For the past year she’d buried herself in her work, grasping on to the monotony of her job to counterbalance the stress and disappointment of her divorce. And now here she was, starting a new phase in her life…and still clinging to the safe and familiar.

Dull. Boring. Too damned predictable.

She sighed and straightened the sofa cushions. What Stacey was suggesting went against her grain and all those good-girl qualities she’d lived with her entire life, but much to her own surprise, she was gradually warming to the idea of finding a guy who turned her on and indulging in a sexy interlude. And she hoped in the process she’d finally banish Marc from her mind and ease the sexual frustration he’d caused her for the past three months.

Yeah, that particular idea definitely had merit. And maybe she’d return to Denver with a new attitude and a new outlook on her future.

A beam of headlights slashed through the windows facing the front of the small cabin, cutting through the shadows of twilight. She heard the crunch of snow beneath tires, an engine rumbling as it idled, then everything went quiet.

Curious, she headed toward the window next to the front door and pushed aside the curtain to peer outside. Even bathed in early November dusk, she immediately recognized the vehicle parked next to her Four Runner, a black Suburban with the Jamison Electrical logo emblazoned on the door in bold, white print.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as the object of her lustful fantasies slid from the driver’s side of the vehicle. Another male figure emerged from the passenger side, and finally, a third stepped from the back door, his boots crunching on the snow. Marc said something to the two other men, and while the duo moved toward the back of the utility vehicle, Marc started for the cabin’s front porch.

Brooke’s pulse tripped all over itself. Abruptly, she dropped the curtain and groaned, unable to believe her private refuge was about to be invaded by roughly six hundred pounds of gorgeous male testosterone, two hundred of which was trouble with a capital T.

Of all the possible ironies!

Knowing it was inevitable she face him, she opened the door before he had a chance to insert his key into the lock. His hand stopped midair, and their gazes met. A slow, intimate smile claimed his mouth, and his gaze drifted down the length of her with a slow, natural ease that came from years of assessing a woman in a single glance.

Not only did he assess her, he seemed to brand her with a breathless heat wherever his gaze roamed—and it covered plenty of territory in an amazingly short span of time. She found his bold perusal unnerving; the fluttering deep in her belly was equally disconcerting. There was something different in the way he looked at her now, something that was distinctly male, a trifle dangerous and a whole lot predatory.

Her skin tightened, and to her dismay her breasts responded to his visual caress. They swelled within the lacy cups of her bra in a purely feminine way, pushing her taut nipples against the soft cotton of her University of Colorado sweatshirt. Even her thighs and legs seemed to become sensitized to the soft, faded denim of her jeans.

She blamed her body’s response on the cold, brisk air filtering into the cabin, but had no such excuse for the contrasting heat warming her in more intimate places—a feverlike flush generated by a pair of smoky-gray eyes. That gaze radiated a sexy, unmistakable kind of message that told her the kiss they’d shared three months ago was a prelude to a deeper kind of magic.

“Hello, Brooke,” he greeted her warmly. His voice was deep, rich, and sent a delicious shiver shimmering through her. Good grief, one kiss and now his voice had the ability to seduce her senses and make her weak in the knees.

She struggled to shake the awareness that had her in its grip. “What are you doing here?” she asked, part demand, part curiosity.

Marc lifted black brows over amused eyes. “I should be asking you the same thing. We’re here because we borrowed the cabin from Eric until next Tuesday to go skiing. Business is slow right now, so we thought we’d take advantage of the prime skiing conditions.”

One glance at the top of his Suburban revealed three pairs of skis strapped to a rack. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, shaking her finger at him. “The cabin is ours for the week.”

He tipped his head and a dark, unruly lock of hair slipped over his forehead. “Did you tell Eric you were coming up?”

A sigh unraveled out of her, fringed with frustration. “Of course I did.”

“That’s odd.” He absently rubbed his thumb along his jaw. “I asked him just this morning if the cabin was free, and he said since he hadn’t heard from you, that it must be.”

Unease slithered through Brooke, settling in her stomach like a rock. “I left a specific message with his secretary three days ago that I was taking the cabin for the week.”

Marc’s broad shoulders lifted in an apologetic shrug. “He obviously didn’t get it, Brooke. His secretary is new and, well, she’s more beauty than brains, if you get my drift. You know Eric wouldn’t deliberately sabotage your plans if he knew you’d be here.”

Brooke knew Marc spoke the truth. For all her exhusband’s faults, he wasn’t one to do something so underhanded.

Marc’s two friends climbed the porch stairs, duffel bags in hand and congenial smiles in place. They flanked Marc and waited for her to invite them into the warmth of the cabin.

She stood guard at the door, certain once the trio invaded the cozy, two-bedroom time-share her chance at a relaxing vacation would vanish. “You can’t stay here.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Marc replied easily. “I called all the resorts in the area, and because of the recent snowfall, everything is completely booked up this weekend. That’s why I asked Eric if I could borrow the cabin.”

His argument was solid, and believable. Still, Brooke didn’t budge.

“Who’s here, Brooke?”

The sound of Jessica’s curious voice loosened some of the tension building within Brooke. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as her sister exited the kitchen, followed by Stacey.

“Men,” Brooke said, the word escaping like the curse it was.

Marc’s deep, familiar chuckle strummed down her spine like caressing fingers. Shaking off her reaction, Brooke turned back to the trio, her gaze locking on Marc’s. “I don’t know what you find so amusing, Jamison, considering you and your friends might be camping in your Suburban for the weekend.”

That earned her a sexy grin that made her stomach dip and her toes curl. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

He sounded too sure of himself. And her.

Before she could issue a retort, Stacey moved to her side, too much enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes. “Aw, come on, Brooke. These guys have obviously been on the road for a few hours, the least we can do is let them rest before sending them on their way.” Her friend extended her hand and introduced herself, beating out any argument Brooke could have issued. “By the way, I’m Stacey Sumner. I work with Brooke at Blythe Paints.”

Marc slipped his hand into Stacey’s. “Marc Jamison,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment.

Stacey flashed a grin. “Ahh, the ex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ex-brother-in-law,” Stacey clarified.

A smile quirked his too-sensual mouth as his gaze slid back to Brooke. “I’d like to think I’m still a friend.”

Friends don’t kiss friends the way you kissed me. Squashing the frisson of heat spiraling toward her belly, despite the chill filling the room from outside, Brooke gave him a tight smile in return. “You’re currently a pain in the ass,” she muttered.

One of the men standing beside Marc grinned in amusement, and the other coughed to cover up a laugh.

Marc blinked, not the least bit offended. “But a darn loveable one.”

“That’s debatable,” she countered swiftly, refusing to let his compelling charm soften her.

“That’s exactly what Brooke needs these days. A good debate.” Stacey grabbed Marc’s arm and tugged him across the threshold. “Come on in, so we can continue this conversation without the threat of frostbite.”

Before Brooke could protest, the cabin was filled with three overwhelmingly masculine bodies, and the small living room seemed to shrink in size.

Marc shrugged out of his jacket and went about introducing his friends, mostly for Stacey’s and Jessica’s benefit. “This is Shane Hendricks, who works for my company as an electrical engineer,” he said of the blond-haired guy who’d seemingly captured Stacey’s attention, then nodded toward the other dark-haired man. “And this is Ryan Matthews, a divorce attorney for Haywood and Irwin.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Stacey said gregariously.

Jessica greeted Shane politely, then turned to Ryan. “An attorney, huh?” A sly smile curved her mouth as Ryan confirmed her question with a nod. “What’s black and brown and looks good on a lawyer?” Before he could respond to her odd, unexpected question, she offered the punch line. “A Doberman pinscher.”

Brooke groaned, Marc chuckled, and Ryan stared at Jessica in bafflement, taken aback.

Then he shook his head and laughed, too. “Nice greeting. I have to admit I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Oh, I have one for just about every occasion.” With a jaunty spring to her step, Jessica went to the coffee table, picked up her laptop computer and glanced at Brooke. “I’ll be up in the loft working on my transcripts until you get everything settled with Marc and his friends.”

Interest gleamed in Ryan’s gaze as he watched Jessica climb the stairs to the cabin’s only second-story bedroom. Once she was out of his line of vision, he looked back at Brooke, a grin quirking his mouth. “Was it something I said?”

Brooke rubbed the slow throb beginning in her temple, and offered the man a reassuring smile. “It’s not you, personally. Lawyer jokes are Jessica’s specialty. She finds them…amusing.” But Brooke knew where Jessica’s comments came from. Ryan’s profession made him an easy target for the pent-up emotions Jessica had kept deeply buried since their childhood.

As for her own emotions, they were currently under siege, as well. She thought about her forbidden attraction to Marc, her sister’s arsenal of lawyer jokes, and Stacey’s preoccupation with Shane as he helped her rekindle the fire in the hearth. Combining all that volatile sexual energy and masculine appeal and cramming it into one tiny cabin was not conducive to the rest and leisure she’d envisioned. No, it was more suited to insanity.

Desperate to see the trio on their way, she turned back to the leader of the pack. “Can I talk to you, Marc, alone?” Before he could refuse her, she headed purposefully toward the kitchen, the only room that would provide them a modicum of privacy.

She was determined that, within the next hour, Marc and his friends would be gone and her relaxing, week-long ski retreat would resume as planned.

2

MARC RELEASED a low, deep breath and watched Brooke head toward the kitchen. His gaze was unerringly drawn to the subtle sway of her slim hips, and the way her soft, faded jeans contoured to her curved bottom…which, admittedly, was his favorite part of the female anatomy—long, slender legs taking a close second. But her deeper, less superficial qualities were what tied him up in knots and had his conscience warning him to put her, and the spontaneous kiss they’d shared, out of his mind.

Intensely loyal and infinitely giving, Brooke was exactly the kind of woman he steadfastly avoided. She was so completely opposite from the enjoy-the-moment-while-it-lasts kind of woman he usually dated. Granted, he was very particular about whom he pursued, but his motto was always the same—no strings attached. The women knew up front what to expect, and he always bailed before the relationship turned demanding. One fateful night had proved he wasn’t cut out for commitment and forever promises, and he wasn’t willing to risk a woman’s emotional stability to give any kind of long-term relationship a try.

Nope, if his own brother hadn’t been able to find contentment with the one woman who embodied the perfect wife, then Marc had little hope for himself.

“Well, buddy,” Ryan said, slapping him good-naturedly on the back and cutting into his thoughts. “I know finding your sister-in-law here puts a glitch in our personal plans, but we’re depending on you to pull this off.”

Marc lifted a brow at his friend. “After Jessica’s odd brand of humor, you don’t mind sharing the cabin?”

Ryan’s gaze drifted toward the loft. “No doubt I’ll be dodging a barrage of lawyer jokes, but I figure we’ll be spending more time on the slopes than here. And if I don’t find an enticing ski bunny to hook up with, I figure it’s a place to sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve crashed on the floor.”

Marc glanced at Shane, who was currently flirting with Stacey as they knelt in front of the fireplace. It seemed the other man didn’t have any objections to the cramped quarters, either. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He headed into the kitchen and found Brooke standing across the small room, near the oak table with six matching chairs—a convenient number given the current occupants of the cabin. He doubted Brooke would appreciate him using that fact as part of his argument for letting them stay.

Their gazes met, held, melded.

She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, showing him the more stubborn side to her personality. Her thick, shoulder-length hair swayed with the movement, prompting him to remember the feel of his fingers tangling in those rich, luxurious, honey-blond strands as he’d angled Brooke’s head for a deeper kiss. Wispy bangs touched her forehead and set off her expressive eyes, currently an intense shade of blue.

Despite her determined demeanor, her gaze revealed the wariness and caution she was really feeling. He knew those emotions were present because of the boundaries he’d unintentionally overstepped at his parents’ house that night of their anniversary party.

Unfortunately, the three months that had passed since he’d last seen Brooke had done nothing to diminish the deep, sensual craving he’d developed for her. He’d tried to tell himself that moment had been instigated out of flirtatious fun, but he now had to admit that the soft, warm feel of her lips under his had seduced him, had forced him to acknowledge that flawed part of him that had coveted his brother’s wife. Sweet, hot desire had gripped him, and he’d done the unthinkable and stolen a sample of what he knew would never be his—oneness, stability, eternity.

The discovery of what forever tasted like had shaken up every rule and restriction he lived by. He’d thought, he’d hoped, that time and distance would put their relationship back on track, as friends. He’d spent the past three months trying to get Brooke out of his mind, knowing she wasn’t his kind of woman, knowing he was the last kind of man she’d go for, especially after what she’d endured with his brother. Especially when his own past track record was less than sterling.

Their time apart had only intensified their awareness of one another.

“I’m sorry, Marc,” she said with an adamant shake of her head. “But having you and your friends here just isn’t going to work.”

He entered the room at a leisurely pace, closing the distance between them. “All of us have taken time off work until Tuesday, and there are no other lodgings available. I’m hoping we can come to some sort of compromise.”

“Eric needs to hire himself a competent secretary,” she muttered, more serious than joking. “We were here first, and this place isn’t big enough for six. My sister and I are sharing the loft, and Stacey is taking the only other room downstairs.”

“The sofa pulls out into a sleeper,” he countered, stopping a safe distance away from her—for both their sakes.

She smirked, the first hint of humor dancing in her eyes. “And you and your buddies will sleep on it together?”

He visibly winced. “Uh, no. Two of us can take the floor.”

“There’s only one bathroom.”

“That’s not important to the male species,” he said with a grin. “Besides, we’ll be up and gone before anyone wakes up in the morning.”

She released a sigh brimming with uncertainties, which he knew had to do with the subtle shift in their relationship. “Marc—”

He cut her off before she could issue an argument. “Look, Shane, Ryan and I came up here to hit the slopes, and for the most part, that’s where we’ll be. Or at the lodge. We just need a place to sleep at night. We’ll do our own thing, and you can do yours. If you or your friends need your own time, I’m certain we can find something to do to occupy our time. In fact, we were planning on grabbing dinner at the lodge. The place will be yours tonight until nine, at least.”

The determination in her gaze wavered, but then held strong, fueled by convictions only he understood. If it was anyone but him, he knew he wouldn’t be reduced to groveling.

“C’mon, Brooke,” he cajoled in his best persuasive tone. “I’ll talk Eric into giving you the next week that the cabin is free to make up for this fiasco.”

Before she could respond, Stacey entered the kitchen. Shane followed close behind, appearing well on his way to harmony with the raven-haired beauty in front of him.

“Well?” Stacey asked impatiently. “Has the head-mistress given her approval for you to stay?”

Three pairs of eyes stared at Brooke expectantly, and Marc watched her shoulders slump in defeat. “Fine, you can stay.” Her tone was hardly gracious. Neither was her gaze as she leveled a pointed looked at Marc. “But no extra guests allowed. You guys are on your own for any extracurricular activities.”

“Fair enough.” He stifled a grin at her militant attitude. “I promise, you won’t even know we’re here.”

BETWEEN THE HARD, carpeted floor, the chilled living room, and the erotic thoughts of the woman sleeping in the upstairs loft filtering through his mind, Marc couldn’t sleep worth a damn.

Rolling to his back, he stretched his stiff muscles and cursed Ryan for drawing the longest toothpick at the Quail Valley Lodge last night, thus giving his friend the pull-out sofa bed for the night. It had been the fairest way to claim the only mattress left in the cabin, but for him and Shane who were in sleeping bags on the floor, it was hell.

Sighing, he stacked his hands beneath his head and stared up at the high-vaulted ceiling. Gradually, the first shades of dawn crept through the curtainless window, throwing shadows along the wall. He heard a rustling sound from the loft’s bed, a sleepy sigh, and his gut tightened at the thought of Brooke lying in that bed, all warm and soft and sensual.

Just like she’d been when he’d kissed her. An eternity ago, it seemed, yet he could still remember every nuance of her body’s response as she’d melted against him, every silky glide of their tongues, the revealing and very sexy moan that had escaped her when he’d delved even deeper, wanting more of her.

The memory prompted a slow, aching throb through his body.

He’d convinced himself that the embrace had been a fluke, a flirtatious encounter that had accidentally escalated from the kind of platonic kiss they’d shared for three years, into a swift, indulgent seduction of senses. He’d convinced himself he’d only imagined the heat and incredible need that had flared between them. He’d believed it, until he’d seen her yesterday and experienced the urge to kiss her again, to see if what they’d shared had been as explosive as he remembered.

Dangerous, crazy, insane thoughts.

He’d deliberately stayed at the lodge until after midnight, but he’d known he was in deep trouble when he couldn’t summon the slightest bit of interest in the women who’d approached him, and there had been a bevy of them to choose from. While Shane and Ryan had enjoyed dancing and flirting with the female population, Marc had found himself comparing those women to Brooke…and found them all sorely lacking. Physically, any one of them could have sufficed. Mentally, none had stimulated him beyond a token smile.

He wanted to taste Brooke again. Badly. Even though he knew he shouldn’t. Knew he was completely wrong for her. And that she was completely wrong for him.

Somewhere along the way, those issues had ceased to matter.

And that’s when he knew he was in big, deep trouble. The kind that tripped a guy up inside. The kind that defied logic. The kind that overruled common sense and rational judgment.

The kind that made a usually sensible, intelligent man make incredibly stupid decisions.

Ever since a relationship with a woman during his senior year in college had turned disastrous, and made Marc realize he was too much like his own father, he’d never allowed another woman to get too close emotionally—for both their sakes. The guilt that had plagued him after that incident had been excruciating. But beyond the remorse, his actions had cemented in his mind his greatest fear, that he didn’t have what it took to sustain a lasting commitment—that fidelity was a chromosome missing from his family’s gene pool.