That deep river feeling, p.13
That Deep River Feeling, page 13
Zeke moved over to the bath and dipped a hand into the water. He nodded to himself and then turned to her. “Temperature’s good. You might need a plank of wood to sit on since the bottom of the bath is still hot, but it should be okay.”
He’d done this? He’d done this for her? And it was just the kind of thing she particularly liked: indulgent and feminine. A reminder that she wasn’t just a cop, but a woman as well.
She’d always had to do this for herself and she’d never minded. Or…at least she thought she’d never minded.
But looking at Zeke’s “surprise,” carefully put together with her in mind, with all the things she liked, her favorite scent and pretty candles and delicious chocolates…
You do mind. Because no one ever thinks of you like that.
It was true, they didn’t. She was always Jared’s daughter. Cal’s sister. Deep River’s VPSO. The last surviving West. She was never just Morgan, not to anyone.
There was a lump in her throat and her eyes prickled, which was downright stupid. Zeke had done this lovely and very thoughtful thing for her, so why she felt on the verge of tears was anyone’s guess.
It was just a bath. A very thoughtful one, but there was no need to cry about it.
Zeke was a tall, dark figure next to the bath, the candles scattering colored light over his strong face and glossing his black hair, and she blinked hard, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears.
He frowned, his dark gaze on hers. “You don’t like it?”
She swallowed, hoping the lump in her throat would go away. “Oh, no, I love it. This is…incredibly thoughtful of you.”
Zeke’s stare intensified. “Then why are you crying?”
Oh, great. So he’d noticed her reaction.
“I’m not.” She tried to get her voice to sound normal because she didn’t want to explain. “This is beautiful, Zeke. I mean, really. It’s just really lovely of you.”
He must have gone to such enormous trouble, carting around the bath and finding logs for the candles, and getting the water into the tub, lighting the fire to heat the water…
Are you sure you’re really worth all that effort?
The voice of a doubt she’d thought long buried whispered through her and she tried to force it away, force it down. And Zeke was still standing there, still staring, his sharp obsidian gaze moving over her…
If she wasn’t careful, he’d see that doubt too.
She moved quickly over to the bath, looking down at the sweet-scented water and dipping her hand into it, hoping to distract both herself and him. “Oh, this is wonderful. And the temperature is just perfect.”
“I can’t claim complete credit. The guy at the general store, Mal, helped. I wanted to be sure it was all stuff you liked.”
Her vision wavered, the hand around her heart squeezing even tighter.
So not only had he gone and done something nice for her, he’d asked Mal for help to make sure he’d gotten things she liked. He’d thought about her.
“Morgan?”
He’d come close, standing next to her, and she didn’t want to look at him. Which was silly. Why was she making this into a big deal?
She forced herself to turn her head and look up at him.
He stood beside her, mere inches away, tall and massive, watching her in that intense, quiet way. Colors from the candlelight flickered over him, highlighting his strong jaw and the proud blade of his nose. The dark hollows of his eyes and the uncompromising shape of his mouth.
He was, she realized with a sudden start, quite beautiful.
“I’ve upset you.” His dark gaze searched her face, his frown turning ferocious. “I’m sorry. It was the wrong thing to do. Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate.”
This mattered to him, she realized. Her opinion mattered to him. He’d wanted to do this for her, that seemed clear, and it was important to him that she like it.
She wasn’t sure why that made a difference or why her liking it was important, but she knew she couldn’t dismiss what he’d done by thinking of it as just a bath.
Couldn’t minimize the gesture by changing the subject or distracting him, no matter how much she wanted to.
She had to be honest with him. She had to let him know how much this meant to her.
“You didn’t upset me,” she said quietly. “It’s only that…well. No one’s done anything this thoughtful for me in a very long time.”
He was still frowning, the glint of something fierce in his eyes. “Why not?”
What could she tell him? That to everyone in Deep River she was the VPSO and a West? That no one saw her as anything else?
It’s your own fault. You don’t let anyone see you as anything else.
That was kind of true, but she didn’t want to think about why that might be. It was enough that Zeke had somehow seen beneath the uniform and seen her, as confronting as that might feel to her.
She let out a breath. “I’m a VPSO. That’s how people see me, and my job is to look after them, not the other way around. Plus, being a West in this town is a whole thing.” She paused a moment. “I’m a lot of different things to a lot of different people here, but I’m hardly ever just Morgan to anyone. Does that make sense?”
Zeke gaze searched her face like a gold panner searches for gold in a river. “I think so.”
“Well, and so it makes this—” She gestured at the bath. “Special. Because it means that there’s one person at least who sees me as just Morgan. And I…like that.”
“Why?”
Of course he would ask. But the answer to that led only to some painful places and she’d had enough honesty for one night.
Morgan lifted a hand and rested it absently on his broad chest, touching him without thought. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t want the water to get cold.”
He went very still.
Abruptly she was conscious of how close she was to him, of how tall he was and how broad. Of how hard he felt under her fingers. He was putting out a lot of heat, more than the fire underneath the bathtub behind him, and she could smell him too—warm and earthy and spicy. Like a forest in the middle of summer, and it was delicious.
The air was full of the same energy she’d felt out on the dock the day before, crackling over her skin, making her even more conscious of his physical nearness and how she was touching him and how she wanted to touch him more. So she pressed a little harder, testing the iron muscle she could feel underneath his Henley.
He blinked, staring at her so intently it was like he was trying to light her on fire with the power of his gaze alone.
And it was working. She could feel the edges of herself begin to smolder and glow, heat building inside her, along with a dragging kind of ache.
“What are you doing?” Zeke’s voice was even deeper, but softer too, like warm black velvet.
Morgan didn’t trust herself to speak, so she swallowed and slowly pressed her hand down flat on his chest, the heat of his body scorching her palm. He felt so good. Better than anything she’d ever felt before.
Zeke lifted his hand and put it over hers where it rested on his chest, his fingers curling around hers. “Not a good idea, sunshine girl.”
Sunshine girl…
Morgan stared at his chest, at his hand over hers. It was so much larger, his fingers longer, his skin darker. It covered hers entirely, enclosing it in a heat that was both comforting and yet tremendously exciting at the same time.
“Why?” She didn’t look at him, staring at his hand holding hers instead. “Don’t you want me to?”
Zeke lifted his other hand, his fingers catching her beneath the chin and tilting her head back, leaving her no choice but to meet his dark gaze. There was fire in it, she could see that; her touch wasn’t leaving him unmoved.
“Have your bath,” he said. “Like you said, the water will get cold.”
“I don’t have to have a bath.” She cleared her throat. “I can do…other things.”
Zeke’s gaze flared, but all he did was stare down at her for another long minute. Then he lifted her hand off his chest, brought the backs of her knuckles to his mouth, and unexpectedly brushed a kiss over it.
The touch of his lips against her skin stole the air from her lungs. And all she could do was stand there as he let her hand go and stepped back. Then he gave her one last enigmatic glance before turning and disappearing back down the path to the house.
Leaving her alone in the flickering candlelight.
Chapter 9
Zeke sat on the porch in the darkness, trying very hard not to pay any attention to the place on his chest where Morgan’s fingers had rested. Or think about the brief glitter of tears in her eyes as he’d shown her the bath.
She’d tried to hide her reaction, yet he’d noticed, and at first he’d thought that she’d really hated it, that he’d gotten it wrong, and had been furious with himself for screwing up.
Yet apparently that wasn’t the case.
In fact, it was the opposite. She loved it. It had touched her. It had meant something to her. And then she’d put her hand on his chest and he hadn’t been able to breathe.
Her fingers had felt so gentle, light, yet so hot, and there had been those fascinating sparks in her eyes, along with a hunger that had hooked into something inside him and held tight.
He’d wanted very much to kiss that soft, rosebud mouth, see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled, but he knew that would be a mistake.
He could give her what she was hungry for. He could kiss her, take her to bed, give her as much physical pleasure as she could handle. But he had a suspicion that Morgan West needed more than that. And that was something he couldn’t give.
What does it matter? If it’s just sex? Especially if she wants it too?
His brain took a sharp left turn, replaying the feeling of her hand on his chest and how she’d pressed harder, looking up at him with heat in her eyes.
She wanted him and he wanted her right back. But he’d taken her hand away from him for a reason.
He couldn’t take her to bed. Not only was she Cal’s little sister, but she was also important to the town of Deep River. She was kind and she worked hard, and she cared about people. She meant something to them. And she deserved more than one night and a couple of orgasms, which was all he had to give.
He could hunt for food, build a fire, survive in the wilderness at twenty below. He could climb a mountain, fly a plane, track an animal, build a shelter, and he was very good at a lot of other intensely physical things.
But he couldn’t do emotional stuff and he didn’t want to. He wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend material.
He glowered into the darkness, staying still in his chair, trying to tell himself he was okay with the decision. Really, he should take himself back off to his campsite, remove himself from temptation, but he didn’t like the thought of leaving her alone in the bath without at least someone keeping guard.
There were bears around and though they probably wouldn’t bother her—they were normally pretty wary of people—you never knew.
It paid to be careful.
The lights through the trees flickered, and he found himself staring in her direction once again.
You shouldn’t have kissed her hand.
He shouldn’t have and he couldn’t think what had possessed him to do so. But refusing her tentative offer of “doing other things” had disappointed her, he’d seen that, and so he’d wanted to give her something. A sign that his refusal wasn’t because he didn’t want her.
It had been a very brief kiss. Barely anything. But it had been enough to know that her skin was very soft and smooth, and very warm. And that it had taken a great deal of restraint not to taste it with his tongue, see if she really was as sweet as she looked.
His blood pumped hard, heading south, and his jeans tightened.
Okay, best not to dwell on that. Best not to dwell on her at all.
Unfamiliar restlessness ate away at him, which was an issue he seldom encountered. He usually liked sitting in silence in the bush, where there was no one around and nothing to do but sit. Where all the concerns he’d left behind in civilization seemed so small and meaningless. There was only the mountains and the trees and the sky. Peace.
That’s where he needed to be, out in the backcountry, not here where there were complications everywhere he turned. And a woman he didn’t want to want, who was starting to get under his skin no matter how hard he tried not to let her.
He put his hands on the arms of the chair, preparing to get up and take a slow circuit of the house, because he could sure use the distraction, when he saw a small figure swathed in a white towel come through the trees and over the lawn.
Everything inside him tensed, the urge to get up and leave, go back inside the house, so he wouldn’t have to see her wearing nothing but that towel filling him.
That doubtful of your own ability to resist her, hmmm?
Good point. He wasn’t a teenage boy, for God’s sake. He’d climbed Denali twice, survived a winter supply expedition that had nearly cost him a toe to frostbite, and once flown into very rugged country during a storm to rescue a couple of hunters who’d lost their way and exhausted their supplies.
He could resist one small, lovely woman wearing only a towel.
He didn’t move, watching her walk across the lawn, determined now to stay where he was even though he didn’t have anything to prove, still less to himself.
The motion-activated lights came on, illuminating her as she came closer, and he could see how the heat of the water had flushed her skin the most adorable shade of pink. She must have washed her hair, too, because it lay sleek and gleaming, flat to her head, outlining the delicate shape of her skull, and he was betting if he got close to her, he’d be able to smell the scent of the vanilla bubble bath.
His jaw tightened. He’d better not get too close to her.
She had her clothes clutched to her chest as she came up the porch stairs, and he was very, very conscious of how the light ran across her bare shoulders, the sheen of moisture still on them. Her skin looked soft and silky and touchable, and he realized with a sudden start, that he hadn’t seen her out of her uniform before.
She was so very, very pretty.
He got to his feet, thinking to open the front door for her since her hands were full, but she came to stand between him and the door. There was a very set look on her face. As if she’d decided something.
Zeke shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to relax his posture. He didn’t know what she’d decided but it was probably something he wasn’t going to like.
“You should go inside,” he said shortly. “You’ll get cold.”
Morgan ignored him. “If you wanted to catch a glimpse of me in the bath, you didn’t need to lurk out here, Zeke. You could have just come over.”
Her eyes in the porch light were very blue and very direct, and that same hunger he’d seen in them in the candlelight was still there, still glittering.
You should have left while you had the chance.
“If I’d wanted to catch a glimpse of you in the bath, I would have,” he said, his voice little more than a growl. “I don’t need to lurk anywhere.”
Her face was flushed with heat, a delicate rose. “But you didn’t come over.”
“No. I didn’t.”
She gave him a long, measuring look. “But you wanted to.”
It wasn’t a question and it made his fingers curl in his pockets, a sudden tension crawling through him. Because he had wanted to and he couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t. He couldn’t lie. He’d never been able to lie, no matter how much his father had wanted him to for the sake of his business, or his mother for the sake of her social standing.
He couldn’t even lie to himself.
“Yes,” he said.
Something in her expression shifted, though he wasn’t sure what it was. “So why didn’t you?”
“Because whatever this chemistry is between us, it can’t turn into anything, Morgan.” He could only give her the truth. “I can’t let it.”
If that disappointed her, she gave no sign. “Why not?”
She so looked delectable standing in the porch light, all glowing from her bath, the light shining on her wet hair, turning the apricot glints a deeper red.
And he wasn’t sure if he’d wanted anything more than he wanted her right now. But he couldn’t and he’d made up his mind on that.
“Because it would be a mistake,” he said. “I’m supposed to look out for you, not anything more. That’s what I promised Cal.”
“Uh-huh.” She tilted her head and he could see the sparks in her eyes glitter. “I’m not actually asking for anything more, you know that, right?”
“Then what exactly are you asking for?” As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said it. Because he was very much afraid that he wanted to know so he could give it to her.
“I think you know already,” she said quietly. “But if you want me to be clearer…I’d…I’d really like to go to bed with you.”
A jolt of intense electricity went through him, arrowing down his spine and grounding out through his feet, stealing all the breath from his lungs.
He liked honesty. He liked people to be straight with him. His parents had been difficult people, but they’d been his parents and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint them. Yet he had. Just by being himself, he’d disappointed them.
There’d been instances working for his father, for example, when he’d been too blunt in a situation that required tact or been too honest when he should have been more circumspect. Refused to do things his father had asked him to do because he didn’t agree with them and didn’t understand why they were important.
Defective, his father had called him once. Not the son he wanted.
