Seven
Rowena should have turned away when she realised it was him. Turned away, walked into her bedroom via the open French doors and shut them behind her.
But she didn’t.
She watched that long, loose, confident stride as it lazily ate up the distance between his side of the street and hers. Lachlan McCabe sauntered like he had all the time in the world.
Or maybe he was giving her time. Time to withdraw? To back up. To go inside and lock her door. Like she really probably should.
But she didn’t.
Not with his unwavering gaze hot on her, stroking against her flesh with intent and promise. The thud of his boot fall on the bitumen echoed the beat of her heart, her pulse a wild tango at her temples as he disappeared from view.
She took a shaky breath as she mentally calculated how long it would take him to join her.
It had been exceptionally inconvenient tonight to realise she was attracted to Lachlan McCabe.
Especially when her libido had been MIA all year.
But, with every millimetre of her skin bristling with the kind of energy that thickens the atmosphere before the coming of a great storm, it was useless to keep pretending otherwise.
The question was, what was she going to do about it? Or had she, by standing on the veranda and refusing to withdraw, already declared her intentions?
Rowena was a very practical person. Nurses tended to be so. She believed in solutions, not problems. And doing what was required to address such problems.
Lachlan McCabe was a problem. A big one.
She’d come to Acacia Junction to get back on the professional horse. As a stepping stone on her road back to the NICU. She had a lot to prove. Which made him a distraction. And the best way to overcome distractions was to deal with them. Not ignore them.
Deal with them and move on.
‘Hey.’
Rowena shut her eyes briefly as his low voice reached her on a silken thread of air, wrapping right around her middle.
She didn’t have to look to know he was standing on the threshold of the veranda, but he might as well have been standing flush against her for the wave of heat that flooded her body.
Her lukewarm mug cradled in her hands, Rowena half turned, one elbow still resting on the top rail. He was lounging in the open doorway, one shoulder shoved casually against the jamb, his face in shadow. The light behind gilded the tips of his blond hair.
‘I found this,’ he said, the silver leaf of an earring swinging between his thumb and forefinger.
Automatically, she reached for her right ear. The damn clasp had been working loose all night. ‘Oh.’ Her voice caught a little in her suddenly dry throat. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘It was at the bottom of the stairs. I looked for the back but I couldn’t find it.’
Rowena shoved her hand in her hair, her fingers fanning it out absently. ‘It’s probably caught in amongst all this.’
Pushing off the jamb, he advanced slowly, as if he was approaching a skittish lamb.
Coming to a stop a few feet away, he mimicked her stance, propping an elbow onto the railing and affecting a casual lean.
Holding out the earring, he offered it to her, dropping it into her palm when she presented it.
‘Thank you,’ Rowena murmured, noting how warm it was before slipping it into the pocket of her jeans.
The veranda was unlit but a mellow glow emanated from her room thanks to the bedside lamp. The soft light fell across every one of his handsome features, including his scruffy, brick-like jawline, and Rowena curled her hand around her mug to stop herself from reaching out and touching.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You weren’t really tired, huh?’
Rowena gave a husky half laugh. ‘No.’ The muffled noises from the pub below were a reminder they weren’t alone, even if it did feel like they were the only people on earth right now.
‘The attention was a bit much?’
‘Yeah.’
But it was his attention, this awareness of him, that was the most discombobulating. Just standing this close, which was a respectable distance by any social measure, her skin popped and fizzed like a live wire dancing in a storm.
This was what happened, she supposed, when a person neglected their baser needs.
The doctors had warned her that the anti-anxiety meds might suppress her sex drive, and they had.
But with the constant churn of adrenaline drowning everything out, it had been the least of her worries.
Hell, she’d been wound so tight she’d have happily traded in her clitoris to make it stop.
But they hadn’t warned her it could come roaring back one day in the arse end of nowhere. That she could go from Siberia to the Mojave in the blink of an eye.
Unless. Maybe she was having a hot flush. Maybe she was menopausal. At thirty-six? Perimenopausal, then?
She’d take it, though. Over this very inconvenient sex thing.
‘I’m sorry if they’re overwhelming you. Just give them some time. Before you know it, you’ll be treated like any other townie. Well, except for the Morellis, of course—they’re probably always going to treat you like the queen of Acacia Junction.’
‘Lachlan.’ Rowena swallowed, her pulse ramping up at the words that were forming in her brain.
She couldn’t bear to make chitchat when every one of his deeply modulated words was like a squirt of accelerant to the bonfire already consuming her. And she couldn’t have a bonfire thing happening every time he was near.
This had to stop. Now. Tonight.
‘Ro.’
She wasn’t sure when Ro had become sexy, but hell if it wasn’t right now. Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at her.
Steadily. Expectantly.
His eyes on her mouth like he already knew what she was going to say. But … God—how could she speak those words? Practical or not, she’d known him for five days.
‘It’s okay.’ He inched a little closer, his blue eyes earnest. ‘Just take a breath. And say it.’
‘What if it’s … shocking?’ she asked huskily. It sure as shit was shocking the hell out of her.
His smile was slow and warm. ‘I don’t shock that easily.’
Rowena shut her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, tuning into the thud of her heart as it coursed through every pulse point. Gathering her courage, she opened them again.
‘My radar is kinda rusty right now so if I’ve got this wrong, I’m going to die of embarrassment and will probably have to leave town, but …’ She took a beat to steady her voice. ‘Is there a thing going on between us?’
He chuckled, all low and sexy, and it reached her on a warm puff of air. ‘You don’t have to leave town.’
The muscles in Rowena’s neck loosened at the confirmation. As did her hold on the railing she didn’t even realise she was gripping. Okay then—that was the hard bit.
Now for the harder bit.
Rowena glanced down at the mug of rapidly cooling coffee. Here went nothing …
‘I know you have no reason to believe me, but I don’t usually go around propositioning men. I’ve certainly never propositioned a man I’ve known for less than a week.’
It was kind of reckless, really, and Rowena didn’t do reckless. But she’d seen enough of him this past five days—on the side of the road, in the bakery and tonight at the pub—to trust her instincts where he was concerned.
And they were telling her he was a good guy.
‘I believe you.’
The statement was stark and simple in the night, striking in its sincerity, and Rowena lifted her eyes to him.
‘Right … so …’ Unable to break their gaze, Rowena cleared her throat. ‘I was thinking that we should do something about it. This thing. Except I don’t have the head space for any kind of emotional entanglement and I’m only here for six months and then I’m gone.’
He nodded. ‘And I learned a long time ago not to get into an emotional entanglement with a woman who’s just passing through.’
Rowena vaguely wondered if that had been the cause of one or both of his divorces but, ultimately, it didn’t matter. It seemed like they were both on the same page, right? A trill of sexual anticipation squirmed through her belly.
‘So, if I were to suggest a one-time thing to burn off whatever this is and then we both go on our merry ways, would you be A) morally offended, or is that B) something you could be on board with?’
‘B.’ His gaze drifted to her mouth before returning to hold her eyes captive with its intensity. ‘Definitely B.’
Rowena let out a steady breath. Hallelujah. But she wanted to be sure. She needed to be sure.
‘To be clear—this would be one and done. No second time. No one more time to be really sure. No pining around the town, no passive-aggressive guy bullshit. We’re not a thing. We’re just a … brief interlude.’
He laughed then, sending a delicious shiver zipping up and down her spine. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And when would’—Rowena swallowed against a throat dry as three-day-old toast—‘it suit you for such a thing to happen?’
Please, please, make it soon.
Without breaking their gaze, Lachlan held out his hand. ‘I’m not doing anything now.’
The leap in Rowena’s pulse thrummed through her entire body. Good answer. She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no time like the present, right?
Rowena didn’t bother to reply, she just slipped her hand into his, which was big and warm and a little rough.
Then he gave a gentle tug and her body, shivering in anticipation, met his eagerly, her breath hitching at the heat and hardness of him.
At the spice of his aftershave and the warmth of his breath at her temple.
The bang of a door on the street, followed by a burst of laughter, spiked her pulse and pierced the intensely intimate bubble that had formed around them. A group of people were crossing the road, their voices and laughter loud, and Rowena took a step back from the railing.
Lachlan didn’t seem alarmed at her withdrawal, he just grazed her knuckles with a warm stroke of his thumb.
‘I don’t … want anyone to know about this.’ Being one and done was a helluva lot easier if no one knew about the one.
Especially in a small town.