On Temporary Terms

“Surely you’ve heard of chemistry, sweet lass.”

The doubt on her face made him determined to tamp down his own lust until he could convince her of his sincerity.

“Is that what this is?” she asked.

“Maybe. Or a bit of fairy magic. We Scots are staunch believers in fairies, you know.”

Abby smiled wryly. “Here’s the thing, Duncan. I like you. Mostly. And let’s be honest. You’re a very sexy, appealing man. But this sounds like a really bad idea.”

“Why is that?”

“If we end up in bed together, I risk becoming the latest gossipy tidbit in Candlewick. I’ve worked too hard to prove myself in a career that’s extremely important to me.”

“So we’ll fly under the radar. Secret love affairs can be very hot.”

“I think you’re missing the point,” she sputtered, mortification painting her cheeks crimson.

“I know what I want, Abby. If you’re honest, I think you want it, too.” Her resistance made him push all the harder. “But if I’m wrong, all you have to do is say no, and I’ll leave you alone.”

The long silence that followed made him regret his noble pronouncement.

At last, Abby spoke, her expression troubled. “If we do this, you and I would definitely be temporary. Short and secret would be the name of the game. I don’t want the whole world to know when it’s over. So if they never know when it starts, we dodge that issue.”

Some of his jubilant mood faded. “I’ve never gone into a relationship already planning its demise,” he groused.

“Lawyers are all about endings and beginnings. It’s what we do. Life flows more smoothly when expectations are clear and everyone signs on the dotted line, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

He pretended to wipe his brow. “Whew. I thought you were about to make me sign a contract before I undress you.”

“I thought about it,” she said.

“You’re joking.” He raised an eyebrow, searching her features for the truth.

Abby’s grimace was self-mocking. “You know...lights out. Nothing too kinky at first.”

“Define at first.”

He was delighted when her choked laughter told him she understood his naughty question.

Abby glanced at her watch. “This has been lovely, but I do have work tomorrow.”

“Of course.” He paid the check, and they made their way to the car. Though it was only early September, in the mountains, the nights cooled rapidly after the sun went down.

His companion was quiet...too quiet. He would give a lot to know what she was thinking. She hadn’t once mentioned the prospective buyer for Stewart Properties. He was relieved, but the omission worried him. He hated secrets. Did the sexy lawyer have some wicked plan in mind to wait until he was weak with wanting and then try to coerce him into selling? He didn’t know her well enough to trust her.

It wasn’t hubris on his part to believe he could coax her into bed tonight if he pressed the issue. Sexual arousal hummed between them like a breathless, tangible force, incubated and nourished by circumstance. The faint scent of feminine perfume in the air. Her slightly off-key humming to the songs on the radio. The pair of sexy high heels that tumbled to the floor of the car when Abby kicked them off and curled her legs beneath her for the ride back to Candlewick.

Duncan gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled. The road home was strewn with dark, convenient pull-offs where a man could drag a woman against him and undress her and dive deep to slake his hunger.

He wanted Abby with a wild, urgent passion that rattled him and made him restless. His own reckless urges gave him pause. She asked for time. Time would be his friend. All he had to do was cultivate a modicum of patience.

God help him, perhaps he could do it.

On Abby’s front porch, he curled an arm around her waist and eased her into the shadows for a good-night kiss. She made no pretense of protest.

As kisses went, it was world-class. They jumped straight over getting to know you and ploughed into where have you been all my life? Abby was short and he was tall, so the logistics were tricky. Abby solved their dilemma by hopping up onto the door stoop.

Now he could run his hands from her shoulders to her narrow waist to the sensational curves of her bottom. The thin fabric of her green silky dress was no barrier at all. “Ye’re a stunning woman, Abby Hartmann,” he muttered. “I’m glad we met.” He nipped the side of her neck with his teeth and grinned when she made a little squeak in the back of her throat and nuzzled closer.

“Me, too,” she said. “Thank you for dinner.”

“So polite,” he teased.

“It’s what we do here in the South. But don’t mistake nice manners for being a pushover.”

“Understood.” He had never felt such an odd mixture of lust and tenderness toward a woman. “I’ll feed you again tomorrow night,” he said. “Six still work?”

Abby pulled back and ran her hands through her hair, visibly flustered, even in the semidarkness. Her porch light was off, but the streetlight out at the road gave them a hint of illumination. “I have book club tomorrow night,” she said. She rummaged in her small purse, extracted a key and unlocked the door.

“Thursday?”

“Dinner with friends.”

He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. “Friday?”

She turned, linked her arms around his neck and kissed him square on the mouth, her magnificent breasts pressed firmly against his chest. “Friday would be perfect. But only if you take me by the house to see your grandmother beforehand and let me tell her about the buyer Mr. Chester has in the wings.”

Duncan lost it for a good ninety seconds, maybe a full two minutes. He forgot where he was. He forgot he had decided to be a gentleman. He even forgot he was in a semipublic setting.

He was angry and aroused, a dangerous combo. Abby’s lips were addictive. She looked so charming and innocent in person, but she tasted like sin. He wanted to strip her bare and take her up against the front door. Her hands played restlessly with his belt at the back of his waist. His erection was buried in the softness of her stomach. There was no hiding the state of his body. She had to know.

But she didn’t back away, and she didn’t seem to mind.

At last, and to his eternal embarrassment, Abby was the one to drag them back from the edge. “I have to go inside, Duncan.”

She said it apologetically, stroking his cheek with one hand as if she could pacify the raging beast inside him.

He shuddered and dragged in a great lungful of air in an attempt to find control. “Of course.” He stole one last, hurried kiss. At least he meant it to be hurried. In the end, he lingered, coaxing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and stroking the inside of her mouth until they both breathed raggedly.

Finally, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her nose. “Stop seducing me, woman.”

“I’m not,” she protested.

He dared to cup one of her breasts through two layers of smooth cloth. The weight of her firm, rounded flesh nestled in his palm. The pert, firm nipple begged for the touch of his thumb. “Aye, lass,” he said. “Aye, ye are.”

* * *

Abby escaped into the house with her virtue intact, but it was a close call. She slammed the door, locked it and peered through the curtains to make sure the tall, handsome Scotsman made his way back to his car.