Tempted

For the past eight years he’d devoted his time and energy to his electrical business, and dated women who didn’t make demands he knew he’d never be able to satisfy or fulfill. He’d never allowed his relationships to turn serious, and ended them before something deep and emotional developed.

One kiss, and he felt emotionally connected to Brooke—a revelation he found both scary, and exhilarating.

Not with her, his mind chided.

Listening to the voice of reason in his head, he determined that sooner or later they needed to discuss that kiss, to put things between them back on track, and into proper perspective. They’d always been friends, and maintaining that easy, casual relationship they’d shared during her marriage to his brother was of the utmost importance to him.

With that plan firmly in mind, he unzipped his sleeping bag, got up, and made his way to the bathroom. Closing the door, he flipped on the light, and decided he’d get his shower out of the way before the women woke up and the men lost their chance at any hot water.

Half an hour later, feeling more refreshed and his aching muscles more relaxed, he slipped on a pair of long thermal underwear and shirt, and overlaid that protective warmth with jeans and a flannel shirt. Quietly exiting the bathroom, he grabbed his ski jacket and made his way to the kitchen. He found the keys for the outdoor shed on the peg by the back door.

Since it appeared his friends were sleeping off a night of too much fun, he had plenty of time to take one of the two snowmobiles parked in the shed and enjoy the light snowfall that had coated the ground during the night.

He suddenly craved something sweet. Since Brooke was out of the question, he’d just have to head down to Quail Village to the quaint bakery there and settle for confections of the pastry kind.

WHEN MARC RETURNED an hour later, the other snow-mobile was gone, the lights in the cabin were on, and the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Tugging off his gloves, he stepped into the warm kitchen and closed the door to the mudroom behind him.

Brooke and Jessica turned from the counter to face him, and he smiled. “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them, setting the pink box of pastries on the oak table.

“Morning,” Brooke replied in her normal, good ol’ sister-in-law tone, then turned her attention back to pouring the steaming brew into the two mugs on the counter.

Ryan walked into the kitchen, and Jessica instantly honed in on the other man. “What could be good about waking up to a lawyer trying to negotiate time in the bathroom?” she asked, stirring cream and sugar into her coffee.

A lazy smile creased Ryan’s lips, and he lifted a brow over a dark brown eye glimmering with amusement. “I did not try and negotiate time in the bathroom.”

“What was I thinking? You’re absolutely right,” Jessica conceded humorously. “Divorce attorneys don’t know how to negotiate, they trounce their opponents, which is exactly what you did to me.” Wandering over to the table, she peeked into the pastry box and selected a bear claw. “And just to set the record straight, Mr. Matthews, your ‘I’ll only be a minute’ turned into twenty.”

Marc met Brooke’s gaze, and they both suppressed a grin at the obvious undercurrents between the sparring couple.

Retrieving a cup from the cupboard, Ryan filled the mug with coffee. “I didn’t take that long,” he countered mildly.

Jessica crossed the room and stopped beside Ryan. “How can you tell when a lawyer is lying?” she asked sweetly, then replied before Ryan could. “His lips are moving.”

With that victorious remark hanging in the air, she left the kitchen.

Marc chuckled and shook his head, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his good friend who was more used to women sweet-talking rather than mocking him.

Ryan joined him with his own deep laughter. “She’s not much of a morning person, is she?”

Brooke grimaced in apology. “No, she’s not.”

Picking a jelly-filled doughnut from the bakery box, he took a big bite, chewing contemplatively. “You know, as crazy as it sounds, I find her very stimulating.” On that note, he headed back into the living room, a grin curving his mouth and a challenging light sparking in his eyes.

As soon as Marc was alone with Brooke, silence, and a slow building awareness, settled between them. He still stood across the room, near the table, and she leaned against the far counter, looking at him over the rim of her mug as she casually sipped her coffee, but the charged energy that arced between them was unmistakable.

The instantaneous, intimate connection still startled him on an emotional level. Physically, he wasn’t so surprised at his reaction. He’d always thought of Brooke as beautiful, and sensual in an understated way—her marriage to his brother hadn’t blinded him to her allure. He was first and foremost a man who liked and appreciated women, and as such it was difficult not to notice the curves that made her intrinsically female—especially now, when the turtle-neck sweater she wore clung to firm breasts, and black leggings molded to the swell of her hips and those long, slender legs that had consumed too much of his thoughts lately.

But it was the warmth in her blue eyes that made his heart beat faster and caused a riot of emotions to clamor within him—wants and needs he’d denied himself for eight long years. Wants and needs he had no business contemplating now, or ever, not when he’d resigned himself to the kind of life-style that didn’t include the kind of commitment a woman like Brooke demanded…and deserved.

But those sensible thoughts did nothing to douse the undeniable desire that had taken up residence in him since that kiss they’d shared. While Brooke currently displayed admirable restraint and nonchalance regarding their situation, Marc experienced a contrary surge of recklessness that battled his willpower to resist her.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Marc laid it over the back of the chair, and turned to direct his gaze at Brooke. “Got enough coffee left for me to have a cup?”

“Uh, sure,” she said, a bit breathless, he suspected, from the rippling heat they’d generated in the short span of time they’d been alone.

He watched her retrieve another mug from the cupboard and pour in the last of the coffee, her hand trembling ever-so-slightly while she tried to regain her composure. Crossing the small space that separated them, he pushed his fingers through his tousled hair and away from his face, the strands still chilled from his morning ride to the village.

She turned back around, startled to find him standing beside her. With a remarkable recovery, she handed him the cup, her gaze holding his.

“You lied,” she said, the accusation low and husky.

The mug stopped halfway to his lips. The very notion that he might have deceived her about something unsettled him. For all of his faults, he valued honesty, demanded it, in himself and others. It was a personal trait he’d insisted upon after that crisis in his life eight years ago.

“I did?” His confusion was evident in his voice.

“Yep.” She nodded slowly, seriously, though there was a twinkle in her blue eyes that softened her complaint. “I thought you said you and your friends would be gone before we got up.”

Relief coursed through him, and he grinned. “My intentions were honorable, I swear. But we got in after midnight, and I had no idea that the guys would be slow-moving in the morning.”

She strolled over to the table and surveyed the baked goods, selecting the chocolate French cruller he’d picked specifically for her. “Wild evening at the lodge?”

“We had a good time.” He took a long swallow of coffee, then shrugged, knowing he could have had a better time, if he’d been in the right frame of mind. If his mind hadn’t been on Brooke. “Dinner was decent, and they’ve got a great band in the bar. What did you girls do last night?”

“Talked and relaxed,” she said vaguely, then took a bite of her doughnut. Her eyes closed for a brief moment. Sheer enjoyment etched her features, and a tiny moan curled up from her throat.

Her tongue darted out to catch the chocolate at the side of her mouth, and he experienced an overwhelming urge to lick the icing off himself and nibble at the smear on her bottom lip.

Marc’s gut clenched tight, his reserve of willpower quickly dwindling. She had no idea just how erotic she made eating a French cruller seem, and her lack of self-consciousness or inhibition made him wonder about her response in bed, beneath him, with him sliding deep inside her—

Whoa. He cut off those intimate, forbidden thoughts, but the image lingered vividly in his mind.

On a satisfied sigh, she blinked her lashes open, saw him staring at her, and a becoming shade of pink colored her cheeks.

He leaned a hip against the counter, his gaze lingering on her damp lips. “It looks good.” He had first-hand knowledge that her lips, and the heated depths of her mouth, tasted equally sweet.

“It’s wonderful,” she admitted. “You remembered that I liked French crullers.”

Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he allowed a rogue grin to grace his lips. “How can a man forget something that brings a woman such pleasure?”

The twist in his words wasn’t lost on her. Her eyes widened at his sexy innuendo, but surprisingly, she made no attempt to counter his brazen comment. Finally, she drew a deep breath and looked away, breaking that irresistible, tantalizing pull.

He was flirting, crossing that invisible line he knew he ought to respect even though she was no longer married to his brother. They were both bound to get tangled up in the sensual web he was spinning if he didn’t stop this madness. He tried like hell to rein himself back, to dismiss the attraction that intrigued and enticed him beyond reason or his better judgment.

He took a sip of his coffee. “You plan on skiing today?” he asked, striving for innocuous conversation.

She smiled, seemingly grateful for the change in subject. “Stacey and I are heading to the slopes in about an hour. Jessica doesn’t ski, so she’ll stay here.” She took another bite of her doughnut, this time careful not to display her enjoyment of the pastry.

“I could give her a few basic lessons.” Pushing off the counter, he slowly crossed the small space separating them. “She’d be skiing in no time.”

Wariness reflected on her face as he approached, and she smoothly slipped around him and went to the sink to wash the sticky icing from her fingers. “Thanks, but I think Jessica prefers to just hang out in the cabin.”

Lifting the lid on the bakery box, he grabbed a glazed buttermilk and bit into it, contemplating Brooke’s sudden skittishness. “I noticed that the other snowmobile was gone. Who’s using it?”

“Shane and Stacey went out for a morning ride.”

“They’ve seemed to hit it off well,” he said, guessing from the various comments Shane had made the previous night that he wouldn’t mind pursuing something with the other woman. “In fact, I think my friend likes your friend.”

“What’s not to like?” Brooke asked, rinsing her coffee cup. “She’s got a great personality, a perfect body, and she’s naturally sensual.”

He tilted his head, and let his gaze take stock of her attributes. “You’ve got a great personality, a perfect body, and you’re very sensual.”

She rolled her eyes at that, clearly disbelieving him.

Obviously, his brother hadn’t appreciated what an enticing wife he’d had. “It’s all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.” He finished off his doughnut, and sucked the glaze from his fingers, then shrugged. “I happen to think you’re very sexy. Always have.”

A wry grin quirked the corner of her mouth. “Interesting, considering my packaging didn’t hold your brother’s attention for long.”

And judging by the guarded look in her eyes, she believed she couldn’t hold his attention for long, either. Though his short-lived relationships verified her unspoken opinion, he found himself unjustifiably annoyed that she’d lump him into the same category as his brother.

He started toward her, and she automatically skirted to the side again, away from him and back toward the table. He turned to face her, and jammed his hands on his hips, his exasperation mounting. “You’re acting as though you’re afraid I’m going to pounce on you…or kiss you again.”

There, he’d said it, finally brought the forbidden kiss out into the open so they could discuss it, and move on.

She seemed just as relieved to be offered an opportunity to talk about what had so obviously caused tension between them. “About that kiss—”

“Something happened between us, didn’t it?” he asked, stepping toward her from the side, so she couldn’t bolt around him.

“Yes, but I think it’s best if we chalk it up as a mistake.” Her chin lifted as he neared. “A casual kiss that accidentally flared out of control.”

Like wildfire. “No, I don’t think it was a mistake or an accident,” he refuted, trapping her against the solid oak table so that her bottom hit the edge. His body crowded her from the front, but didn’t touch her…yet. “I think we both knew what we were doing, but then you panicked.”

“I came to my senses,” she argued, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him from coming any closer. One more inch and they’d be more intimate than he’d been with a woman in too many months to count. One more inch and she’d discover just how badly he wanted her, despite the dozen reasons why he shouldn’t.

“Marc, this is all so complicated.” She shook her head, confusion clashing with the wanting in her gaze. “If it was anyone but you…”

The honorable intentions he’d vowed earlier, to leave her alone, dissolved in that moment. Suddenly, he had a point to prove.

She gasped as his hands clasped her hips, then lifted her a fraction so her bottom slid onto the flat surface of the table. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

She frowned at him and his bold move, but the arousing shade of her eyes contradicted her prim attitude and countered the silent reprimand in her gaze. “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment, or an insult. It’s the truth.”

He grinned lazily and flattened his palms on her slender thighs. She sucked in a swift, shocked breath, and before she could guess his next intent, he pushed her legs apart and moved in between so her knees bracketed his hips, leaving her no possible escape.

Incredible heat shimmered between them. The initial panic touching her expression was quickly eclipsed by a thrilling rush of excitement that flowed hot and molten through Marc’s veins, as well, spiraling straight toward his groin. His erection strained against thermal and denim, full and hot and heavy.

No doubt, she felt his desire and hunger for her. She swallowed convulsively. “You’re my brother-in-law,” she attempted.

“Ex,” he breathed, dipping his head near her ear, squashing her paltry argument. Before she could issue a more obvious objection, that he was a Jamison, he distracted her by sliding his lips against the silken skin of her neck. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since that kiss.”

A tiny moan caught in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the table with her fingers, seemingly trying desperately to resist him. “Me, either,” she admitted, sounding miserable.

He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, curling his fingers just beneath the French braid she’d twisted her hair into. He touched his lips to her jaw, dragged them to the corner of her mouth, which was parted and trembling. He lifted his head, just enough to look into her soft blue eyes, brimming with anticipation, despite her protests.

That was the only assurance he needed to take this encounter to the next level. “You’re curious,” he murmured huskily, “I’m tempted, we both want it, so let’s try another kiss and see what’s really there.”

She shuddered, resisting, her body stiff with tension. He waited for her to give him the permission he sought, because this time he wasn’t about to take something she wasn’t willing to give.

This time, he wanted no regrets, no excuses.

Through half-mast lashes, he watched her struggle with her conscience, and prepared to let her and this fleeting moment go—probably the smartest thing for him to do.

He started to step back, but she suddenly reached out and gripped his flannel shirt in her hands, pulling him back—close. Determination fired her blue eyes, and she drew a deep, fortifying breath.

“Just do it,” she ordered.

3

MARC BLINKED, surprise registering in his gaze at Brooke’s ardent demand. “Excuse me?”

Brooke dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, and her entire body was charged with a nervousness she couldn’t deny. “Just do it!” Before I change my mind, she thought desperately.

He tilted his head, a curious smile canting the corner of that sensual mouth she knew was capable of giving her great pleasure. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.

He had no idea. Right now, she didn’t want to think about what she was about to do, or her reckless, irresponsible behavior, or the excitement spiraling low in her belly. She had a point to demonstrate, to him and herself…that she could just do it.

Forcing herself to be the aggressor, she released her grip on his flannel shirt and slid her palm around to the nape of his neck. Her fingers glided through the silky length of his black-as-midnight hair. The strands were cool, contrasting with the fevered heat radiating from his body and the smoldering intensity darkening his eyes.

She shivered, and before she came to her senses, she pulled his mouth toward hers. His head dipped willingly, without hesitation, and his soft, warm lips settled over hers with a gentleness that threw her plan for a mindless seduction off-kilter. She’d wanted, expected, fast, wild and unemotional. He gave her slow, lazy and tantalizing, catering to her doubts and uncertainties…and the tension thrumming through her.

His large hands stroked down her back, encouraging her closer, making her spine arch until her breasts brushed his wide, hard chest. The delicious friction caused her nipples to tighten and ache. He gripped her hips and slowly pulled her bottom to the very edge of the table, spreading her legs wider and pressing against her until the only thing separating them was heavy denim and cotton leggings.

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled on the soft flesh with his teeth, and a moan slipped past her throat before she could catch it. Her mind spun, and her thighs clenched against his lean hips.

“You need to relax,” he murmured against her mouth. She felt her lips gradually soften and part for him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, then exerted a more provocative pressure with his mouth. “Now give me your tongue…”

Shivering at the husky, rich tone of his voice, she did as he ordered. Completely meshing their lips, she slid her tongue into his mouth and instantly tangled with his, silky slow and lush with promise. The flavor of hot male and honey glaze from the doughnut he’d eaten overwhelmed her, excited her, and made her melt and relax against him.

Three months ago the kiss they’d shared had been a thrill ride neither one of them had expected, giving them little time to explore and enjoy taste and textures. This time, he was entirely too thorough, incredibly indulgent, and generous in catering to her pleasure.

This languorous kiss, as titillating as it was, suddenly wasn’t enough. The need to be a little bit wild and a whole lot uninhibited swept through her. Framing his jaw in her hands, she opened her mouth wider beneath his and took control before she came to her reliable, responsible senses. The pace of their kiss immediately quickened, grew wetter and deeper and shockingly suggestive as their tongues entwined and stroked and mated.

Amazed that she could feel so physically needy, so intensely aroused so quickly, she gave into the sensations lapping at her feminine nerves, screaming for a more sexually charged contact. Locking her calves at the back of Marc’s muscular thighs, she pulled him even closer, welcoming the heat and pressure of him against her newly aroused, swollen flesh.

Marc groaned deep in his throat, the sound reverberating against her lips, her breasts, her belly, between her thighs. Unable to help herself, she tilted her hips and deliberately rubbed against the hard ridge straining the fly of his jeans. She rubbed sinuously again and gasped as he instinctively pushed back, a slow, purposeful stroke that seemed as intimate as him being inside her.

That shameless friction triggered a rush of dampness, a deep clenching of her body, and stole her breath. Their hot, openmouthed kiss turned ravenous and urgent, and he did it again, sliding rhythmically against her, as if he couldn’t help himself.

Desire rippled through her, coiling tight in her belly. An explosive, wondrous climax beckoned, and she whimpered, struggling between holding on and letting go of those restrictions and good-girl tendencies that had ruled her life for so many years.

And just like the first time they’d kissed, she came to her senses and panicked. Physically, he thrilled her, turning her on faster than any man ever had. But it was the complex emotions he evoked that threw off her balance.

The sound of the snowmobiles approaching the cabin escalated Brooke’s alarm. Wedging her hands between them, she pushed her palms against his shoulders frantically, and he immediately came to his senses and pulled away.

Stumbling back, Marc plopped down in the nearest chair, looking dazed and undeniably aroused. “Wow,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was incredible.”

Scrambling down from the table, Brooke pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks, unable to deny his claim. Her body buzzed with unfulfilled desire, throbbing for the climax that had been so, so close. She’d been so primed he could have taken her on the table—and how would she have explained her torrid embrace to her sister, who was only a room away? No doubt Jessica would call her a fool for getting involved with another Jamison, for allowing hormones to reduce her to a mass of nerves and sensations with only a need for ultimate satisfaction on her mind.

What made her believe she could indulge in a mind-blowing kiss with him and not want more?

She shook her head, afraid to think of what might happen with all that volatile passion if they ever made love. Not that she was contemplating getting naked with him! “Marc, we can’t do this.”

“I know,” he agreed, his voice tight and strained. He shifted in his chair to find a more comfortable position. Clearly unable to accommodate the bulge straining the zipper of his jeans, he instead clasped his hands strategically in his lap.

She straightened her sweater with a yank, and nearly groaned as the rasping sensation tantalized her sensitive nipples. “Well, don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

His gaze narrowed perceptively, a spark of Jamison challenge glimmering in his eyes, as if she’d issued him a dare. “You don’t think so?”

“I know so,” she said adamantly.

The sound of Shane’s deep voice and Stacey’s flirtatious laughter drifted from just outside the kitchen door leading to the back area of the cabin. Brooke willed the couple inside, fervently hoping they’d interrupt what had become a very awkward conversation.

Marc glanced at the door, then back at her, knowing his time was limited. “Brooke, two people don’t kiss like that unless there’s a certain chemistry and a strong attraction between them.”

One she couldn’t afford to explore further. Not with him. “Call it a release of sexual frustration. It’s been a long, celibate year for me.”

Irritation creased his expression at her flippant tone. “So you’re insinuating that you would have responded to any man the same way?”

No, she thought miserably, knowing that a faceless stranger wouldn’t have evoked such a startling heat, hunger and need. But that was part of the problem with Marc. She’d never responded so shamelessly, so eagerly to a man in her entire life. Neither Eric nor her one sexual encounter in college had prepared her for this. Marc’s magnetism and appeal seemed to strip away every proper, responsible characteristic she’d honed since the age of thirteen, reducing her to a sensual creature who couldn’t get enough of that blend of excitement and ecstasy Marc’s kisses promised.