“You don’t trust me,” he accused.
“Not a bit,” she agreed, cheerfully.
“I’m a great pilot. Careful. Knowledgeable. Experienced.”
“Don’t take it personally. I wouldn’t get in a small plane with you even if your last name was Lindbergh.”
He concealed his disappointment with a shrug. “A Gulf Stream G-V isn’t exactly a small plane.”
“I don’t care if it’s Air Force One. I’m not going anywhere in an airplane.”
“Right, got it.” No chance he could talk her out of a lifelong phobia before morning. That was clearly a task for another day. But New York wasn’t all that far away. “Let’s drive instead. It will take about six hours. We’d have to leave earlier, but it’s doable.”
“I can’t do that either.”
“Why not?”
“See reasons B and C.”
He could argue his point, but he’d lost this round. She didn’t want to go to New York with him, and maybe she was right. They didn’t know each other that well. “Have it your way.”
She sprayed the counter with disinfectant and grabbed a roll of paper towels. He took them from her and tossed them toward a mound of trash. With his hands claiming her shoulders, he demanded her attention. “We’re supposed to be finished here.”
She nodded to a broom in the corner. “If you sweep the floor while I clean the counters, we will be.”
“Except for replacing the stove and refrigerator, part of the flooring, and the roof. Don’t look,” he warned as she reached for the refrigerator handle. “I’m breeding new and unidentified life forms in there.”
“Gosh, you’re right.” She slammed the door and shuddered. “Even my thrifty soul can’t stomach the thought of salvaging it.”
“Good. Let’s go.” He put his arm around her shoulders to guide her away.
She ducked under his arm. “How are the rooms upstairs?”
“No better than the rest of the place.”
She darted toward the open stairway that divided the living room and kitchen. “Let’s look and see what you’ll need.”
“An exterminator.” He drug his feet as he followed her up the steps. “The place is crawling with wildlife. Overrun with rodents. I’d be better off declaring it a nature preserve and sleeping in a tent outside.”
Chapter Eighteen
The upper level contained four bedrooms and two baths. Gracie grimaced from the doorway of the first, second, and third bedrooms, but something about the fourth one drew her in.
Glancing around, Dylan tried to determine the source of her interest. Notches and initials marred what remained of the bed’s headboard. A chest of drawers lay in pieces. Stuffing spilled out of a stained and undulating mattress. He could only imagine what kind of critters resided inside. Maybe the kind with wicked teeth that had chewed holes through the floorboards.
“If I remember right, this room has a beautiful view.” Gracie pushed aside the tattered curtains at one of the windows.
Coming up behind her, he peered over her shoulder. The moon and stars sprinkled the water on the bay with crystal shimmers. The line of pine trees hulked along the coastline like menacing sentries. A giant maple hugged the cabin and framed the scene within its sturdy branches.
He gave into the moment, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. Her tantalizing scent and the hypnotic movement of the tide helped soothe the frustrations of the past few days.
New York, the stock market, and his meaningless social life drifted a million miles away. A lick of surprise lashed down his spine as he identified the woman in his arms as the source of his contentment.
He didn’t want to feel all warm and fuzzy about her. Didn’t want to feel at home here. Didn’t want Gracie to fit against him so perfectly. Good thing he was going to get a taste of real life in the civilized world tomorrow, before he forgot how well it suited him. How rich and fulfilling it was.
Yeah, right.
Natalie always warned him that he’d been looking in the wrong places for happiness. Except for the times he spent with his family, his search for anything deeper than surface joy had proved futile.
Without putting the true name to it, he knew he wanted what the other Bradfords had—marriage, with no option for divorce. But the only reason he believed he’d ever be mature enough to form that kind of lasting bond was because his father had.
Now with all the evidence pointing to the contrary, the thought didn’t offer much hope. He’d never been faithful to anyone for longer than a few weeks. He couldn’t imagine the monotony of trying. Except that thoughts of Gracie defied monotony.
Still, he had to believe distance was the best test for this unlikely attraction. He pulled his arms tightly around her for one final squeeze. She rubbed her cheek against his chest like an affectionate kitten. A damned sexy kitten. Hell.
He had every intention of moving away. But first, he bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. Her breath hitched, and she turned her head to look up at him.
Their mouths met, and she turned her body into his. Her welcoming warmth and sweet response encouraged him to deepen the kiss. The delicious sensation of her mouth whet his appetite for much more.
His hands gravitated to the hem of her shirt. She lifted it over her ribs, past the fullness of her beautiful breasts and over her head. Moonbeams highlighted the lace that covered her creamy white flesh. His fingers curled toward the front clasp of her bra, caressing the smooth warmth of her skin.
He paused to memorize her breath-stealing beauty in the silvery light. Impatient, she placed her palm against the nape of his neck and pulled him forward. He lowered his head to nibble an erect nipple.
Closing his mouth over the pink tip, he grazed her with his teeth. This was the beginning of heaven. This was—
The crash of breaking glass shattered the thought.
Gracie’s moan of pleasure shifted to a startled “Oh!”
He lifted his head. “Now what?”
“Another crazed animal?” Reluctantly, she moved reached for her shirt. “We should check it out.”
“Not yet.” He held her firmly against him. “I’ve seen all the wildlife I need for the night, but not nearly enough of you.”
Although she seemed intent on continuing the discussion, he captured her mouth with his. Delving deeply with his tongue, he tasted her voraciously. Her mouth moved beneath his, and she teased his tongue, abandoning resistance. She pushed away and fumbled with his belt buckle. Just as she unfastened the clasp, she pulled in a deep, steadying breath, stopped, wrinkled her nose, and sniffed again.
All right, he probably did smell like a grub worm, but no worse than he had a few minutes ago. He sniffed, too.
“Smells like smoke.” He ground his teeth over yet another interruption.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
“Are you kidding? If I had a gun, I’d shoot whoever it is. Especially if it’s Clayton.” He let his gaze linger on her for another frustrated moment. “Come on.” He refastened the clasp on her bra. “I’m not big on sharing. Let’s get you dressed before whoever it is barges in.” Smoothing his hands across her breasts, he settled her shirt into place then rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. “Damn, their timing stinks.” With a grimace of regret, he took her hand and headed for the hall.
Heat singed the air around them, and the acrid smoke burned Dylan’s nose before they took a single step outside the room. A look of alarm flashed between them as they rushed to the top of the stairs. Mid-way down, clouds of smoke billowed toward them, and vicious tongues of flame licked upward.
A fiery inferno encompassed the entire first floor and greedily ate its way toward them.
“Go back!” Dylan shouted.
Turning, he pushed her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them. She rushed to the window by the big maple and tried to raise it, but it stuck tight. As she struggled with it, he tugged on another one without success.