Elizabeth Sinclair - Burning Secrets

Hell, she didn’t even know why she’d started the conversation about his acceptance of his family. He’d been totally right. She’d stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong. She’d get her answers about the fire and Paul’s family, then she’d be gone, and life in the sleepy little hamlet of Bristol would go on. How it went on was none of her concern.

When would she learn that there were some things that were better left alone? Like men with some big-time emotional problems, and dark cars that invited intimacy with a man she had no business even thinking about, much less kissing as if her life depended on it. Let the Kingstons exorcize their family ghosts. She had her own problems to contend with.

Resolutely, she jumped up, then went to the dresser. She extracted her nightie from the top drawer. Throwing it, her towel and a robe over her arm, she headed down the hall to the shared bathroom. Her bedside clock had read eleven o’clock. She still had time before her landlady turned off the hot water, Mildred’s way of saving on the electric bill. Putting thoughts of Jesse and their encounter aside, she concentrated on enjoying a relaxing shower and then a good night’s sleep.

Laying her nightie on the vanity and hanging her robe on the back of the door and the towel over the bar, she moved aside a shower curtain covered with all species of colorful tropical fish. She adjusted the water to the hot temperature she preferred, then stripped off her clothes and stepped under the spray.

The silky caress of the water brought to mind again the feel of Jesse’s lips on hers, the way he gently stroked her mouth, almost as if he worshipped it. Her body began to tingle anew and not from the hot water. Slowly, she ran her hands over her skin, her mind conjuring up the image of Jesse Kingston.

Taking the soap, she lathered her body, then massaged the bubbles into her sensitive skin. Slipping back beneath the spray, she leaned against the tiled side of the shower stall. Eyes closed, she luxuriated in the sensual feel of the hot water running over her, rinsing away the velvet lather like a lover’s hands easing away the sweet ache of desire. Jesse’s hands.

She knew with a certainty that making love with Jesse Kingston would be an experience that she’d never recover from. Right now, even with her skin tingling and her lips still swollen from their kiss, she wasn’t willing to take that risk.

Tiny shards of ice attacked her without warning. Her eyes flew open. She’d stood under the shower much longer than she’d intended. The water had turned to arctic runoff. Her memory played back Mildred Hopkins’s warning. The diminutive landlady had been quite firm.

I turn off the water heater at eleven-thirty. No sense letting it run all night. That’s just a waste of good money.

Gasping for breath and fighting a shower curtain that insisted on adhering itself to her slick body, Karen battled her way out of the shower. Grabbing her thick bath towel from the towel bar, she wrapped it around her frigid body, turned off the water, then leaned against the sink, gasping for air.

“Talk about your rude awakenings…. I’ll have to remember that for the next time I have a run-in with Jesse.” No. There would be no more run-ins, no more incidents of her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. And above all, no more kisses.

Jesse posed far too much danger to her peace of mind, and she’d do well to remember that. She had not come here to have an affair with a man who could leave scars the size of Texas on her heart, a man who carried his own scars and refused to share them with anyone. She might know way more than she should about the Kingston sisters and nothing about the brother who held himself apart, but she didn’t plan on rectifying that. The less she knew, the better. Once she’d gotten what she’d come for, she’d head back to the safety of New York City.

Grabbing her nightie and slipping it on, she headed back to her room. So much for a good night’s sleep. She deposited her dirty clothes in a pile beside the dresser, promising herself she’d pick them up in the morning. Throwing her head forward, she began towel drying her hair. The vigorous massage felt good and helped her vanquish thoughts of Jesse from her mind.

A knock at the door stopped her. She sighed. Her landlady. Couldn’t the woman tell time? The last thing she needed at midnight was a heart-to-heart. The knock came again, this time more insistent. It didn’t look like she was going to give up. Karen figured she might as well answer it.

Realizing she’d left her robe in the bathroom, she held the towel in front of her, strode to the door, then threw it open.

“Mildred, it’s—”

Mouth agape, Karen went numb. Her fingers relaxed their grip on the towel. It slithered down her body to the floor. Unable to move, she knew that nothing but a thin covering of revealing peach silk and lace hid her nakedness from the mesmerized gaze of Jesse Kingston.

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