Jill Shalvis - Hiding Out At The Circle C

"What?" he asked, blinking innocently.

She stared pointedly at his work-roughened fingers, settled inches from her shoulder, then turned to him. "Your move. It wasn't very subtle."

He sighed. "Just like a woman, you can't be quiet for five seconds."

Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to retort.

"Shh." He squeezed her shoulder gently, then pointed. "Look."

The first drop fell, then another. Within a split second, the sky had simply opened itself up, dumping upon the dry and crusted earth below. Each individual, fat drop bounced off the ground with a little ping. More lightning. More thunder. Ping, ping, ping . Fascinated by the unexpected concert of nature, she sat mesmerized.

They stayed there in silence, simply enjoying the night. She found that since she'd made the decision to call the USGS in the morning, she felt better. So she sat, content.

Even when she shivered again, she didn't want to move, for the lightning came at regular intervals, marring the black sky and riveting her gaze. She'd seen storms before-hundreds-but never anything like this.

She hadn't forgotten about Cameron; that would have been impossible. He filled her senses. She felt him, watched him, could almost taste him. He pulled her closer, and she realized she was shaking with cold. "I'd give you my jacket," he drawled in her ear with a husky voice that invoked its own shiver. "But I already did."

And she hadn't returned it. Remorse hit her and she started to rise. "I'm sorry-"

He held her close. "Don't be. Just make sure you don't wash it before you give it back."

"Why?" She made the mistake of looking at him. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes smoldered.

"I want it to smell like you." He leaned close, laughing a little when she flinched at the drum of thunder.

She pulled her head back and stumbled over her words. "The storm was beautiful, thanks, but I've got to go."

"You ought to do that more," he said, letting her go this time when she pulled away.

She reached the back door. "Do what?"

"Relax." Standing, he stretched lazily, then came toward her with that same long-legged easy grace she'd admired in Zach. Only this time, in Cameron, it didn't seem quite so harmless.

As for Cam, he wished he didn't invoke that particular expression on her face-the one that clearly stated how uneasy she felt around him, how wary she still was. Wanting to delay her, he said, "It's early yet. Want to sit some more?"

Haley hesitated, her hand on the door as if ready to bolt at the slightest movement from him. "What for?"

He laughed. "Just because. We could watch the storm again, or just talk."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I really have-"

"I know," he said, shaking his head. "You have stuff to do. Well, it's my stuff and it can wait."

She sighed and looked away. "You don't put a very high priority on work, do you?"

"The work will always be there." He moved closer. "But fun… That's another thing entirely. You have to grab it when you can."

"Hmm."

"Now take today…" She tensed and he knew she expected him to grill her about the barn incident, but he didn't work that way. "When you caught your first glimpse of Margaret-" he grinned wide "-that was fun."

"I see." One brow rose haughtily, her chin lifted.

Despite his good intentions to remain distant and wary, he liked her. Especially when she used that prim, annoyed tone as a defense. He pictured her as a teacher, and not for the first time, wondered exactly what it was she'd done before. "Fun is easy, Haley. Everyone likes fun."

"It has its time and place," she admitted. "But there are other things."

Her blue eyes were full of mysteries he could only guess at as she watched the rain fall. "Like what?"

"Like responsibility."

"Something I'd guess you'd be very good at." Because he couldn't resist touching her, he tucked a wayward strand of silky dark hair behind her ear. "What is it you really do, Haley?"

She licked her lips when he stepped closer, but didn't move away or object. "I told you, I'm a housekeeper."

"Now, maybe."

"You don't think I've done this before?"

Nellie had told him she'd caught Haley sitting on the kitchen floor, avidly reading the directions on a bottle of pine-scented cleaner, muttering to herself. She'd thought it cute and meticulous, but to Cam, it told him much more than that. It told him she wasn't used to using it. "You're avoiding my question."

"And you said you weren't going to ask me any," she reminded him.

He smiled, though it was a struggle. He wanted her to open up, to tell him she wasn't normally a person who hid things, who lied. That she had a really, really good reason for doing so now. Fool that he was, he'd probably believe her. "I said I wouldn't push you about where you'd come from and what you'd done. And I won't. This was just a harmless question, part of our casual conversations. You know, from one person to another."

"And therefore," she concluded, lifting a brow, "a different matter entirely, right?"

"That's right." Yeah, he really liked the way she got all huffy and pompous. It suited her. And stirred his juices. "So, are you going to tell me?"

"No." She glanced over at the next sharp flash of lightning while he tensed. The thunder rumbled. The rain still fell, dripping off the patio, creating an intimate aura. She turned her head back to his and once again, their faces were only inches apart. Slyly, he slipped an arm around her waist.

"Kind of clichéd, isn't it, Cameron? Using a storm as a scene of seduction?"

"Only if it works," he said, laughing, loosening up again. "Is it?"

"Not a chance."

"Ouch," he said good-naturedly, experienced enough not to back away. Yet. He was pleased that her breathing didn't seem so even, because his had all but stopped. Her skin glowed softly in the soft light from the kitchen window. The cold had added a touch of color to her pale cheeks. Nellie's sweater, a little too big for Haley's thin shoulders, kept slipping down, giving him tantalizing glimpses of more creamy skin that he ached to touch. The burst of arousal didn't surprise him so much as experiencing it here, now, with her. She was someone he wanted to help. That was it.

But already, she'd become far more.

Tread carefully, he told himself. This one had thorns . Well, so did he. "I know it's not all men because I've seen you smile at Zach and Jason, so why me?"

"Why you what?"

Their bodies didn't touch except where his arm curled around her waist, but the electrical current running between them made it feel as if they were. He could almost feel her soft curves resting against him. "Why are you so wary of me?"

"I'm not," she replied, dropping her gaze. But she raised her hands and pushed him back a foot or so.

He went willingly. "I don't bite. I'd like to, but I won't."

Her lips twitched and that sparkle he liked to see so much in her eyes came back. "I'd bite back."

Laughing, he dared to step toward her again. "Want to play?"

She shook her head, her eyes still smiling.

"Don't suppose you'll invite me to walk you back to the guesthouse?"

"With a man who's already threatened to bite?"

He sighed. "Guess we'll have to do it here."

Alarm flashed across her face. "Do what?"

Slowly, very slowly, he drew her against him, keeping his gaze locked on hers. "Dance in the rain."

"There's no music," she said, sounding breathless. Her hands were fisted tight against his chest, her entire body rigid.

"Of course there is, darlin'." He slid his hands around her waist, realizing just how tiny she was. "Listen to it," he whispered, then fell silent, willing her to relax, to hear the incredible beat of the storm that crashed all around them.