That Loving Touch. Ashley Summers
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Название: That Loving Touch
Автор: Ashley Summers
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Sam patted on a citrusy aftershave before donning a blue cashmere sweater and another pair of soft cotton jeans. Had she not been here, he’d have worked out in the spare bedroom that also served as an office. Besides electronic gear, the room contained weights, a weight bench and a treadmill. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get in a run, he mused, slipping on boots for the hike later to his truck. After he freed his vehicle, he’d have to see to hers. She sure as hell couldn’t leave without a car.
Passing her door, Sam stopped. His mystery lady was stirring about. He still didn’t know her last name, or why she was here. Well, no use sweating it—sooner or later he’d have answers to all his questions.
Surprising how many he had, though. Frowning, Sam returned to the kitchen to stir up something for breakfast. He was famished, and supposed she would be, too.
She liked tea. He put the kettle on. “Getting to be a regular maid service, Holt,” he growled. Unfortunately, the refrigerator was bare; he’d been on his way to the grocery store when his truck nosed into that drift. Considering his options, Sam had another cup of coffee. He needed something hot and nourishing....
When Carrie entered the den, she stopped, nose twitching at the aromas filling the room. Sam sat at the table by the fire, hands wrapped around a coffee mug. Taking in the lavish spread of toast, peanut butter and a foil pan of hot popcorn, she granted him a smile. “Popcorn? For breakfast?”
Sam’s brows shot together. “Sure, why not?” He came to his feet. “It has all sorts of good stuff in it. It’s also all I have on hand right now. Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please. And I love popcorn. Thank you, Mr. Holt—”
“Sam.”
“Sam. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I’m grateful.”
He scowled. “What am I doing? Having breakfast, for Pete’s sake. Sit down, eat something—before you keel over again. How do you feel?” he asked abruptly. He had hoped she’d be much better by now. But that thin little voice didn’t sound so great.
“Fine, thanks to you,” she replied.
Sam’s response was not immediately forthcoming. She had stepped closer, into the light, and the sight of her suddenly overwhelmed what was, just a second ago, a reasonably steady mind. Those eyes, he thought dazedly. So green. So luminous. That gorgeous red hair. And freckles-had he noticed them last night? He’d spent hours looking at her—impossible that he’d missed this delicious sprinkling of gold dust misting the subtle sweep of cheekbones and the bridge of her nose.
Her hair he’d remembered as soft, subdued, like banked coals. But against the window’s drab light, it flamed as bright as the fire he’d built.
She was incredibly sexy. He felt the heat rise.
“Sam?”
Caught staring, Sam reddened. “No thanks necessary,” he said brusquely. He wanted very much to make love to her. Tread softly, Sam. His warning had a cooling effect. “The phones are still out,” he continued briskly. “But I heard the snowplow earlier this morning, so after breakfast I’ll hike back to my truck, get my other cell phone and call Dr. Hewlett for you—”
“That’s not necessary,” Carrie interrupted. She didn’t want Sam talking to her doctor! She’d go alone, when she got her car back. “I’m all right now. Still a little washedout, but I’m fine, really. Quite able to move on to my own cottage.” She sat down and accepted a mug of tea. “That’s bound to be a relief to you. Knowing I’ll soon be out of your hair, I mean.”
“You bet I’m relieved-I was really worried last night,” Sam said, ignoring the rest of her statement. He grinned. “You look about twelve years old in that getup.”
She blushed pink as her sweat suit. “I’m twenty-eight, Sam. I’ve been sick and I didn’t bother with makeup—what do you expect?” she retorted.
“You look all right,” Sam said shortly. There was something too personal in their exchange. Besides, she was barefoot. Why the hell was she barefoot? Only the bedrooms were carpeted, the rest of the place had hardwood floors. “I’d advise wearing shoes while you’re here. These floors are very cold,” he said irritably. “Here, fix yourself a plate.”
“In a minute.” She tucked her culpable feet under the chair. “I’m not really hungry.”
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