Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) Read online

The guest rooms were on the second floor. Boone was worried about Nana making it up the stairs and offered her his room on the first floor, but she flatly refused.

  “The stairs at home are what keep me fit,” she said, but then her face fell.

  Those stairs at home were gone, weren’t they?

  There was a palpable sadness in the air as he picked up Dexter’s box again and they ascended the steps to the second floor. He guessed he wasn’t very good at making people feel better. But he’d keep trying. He showed the ladies to their rooms, which were connected by a luxurious bathroom.

  “There are plenty of towels under the sinks,” he said, “and extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Soap, shampoo, and terry robes, too. If you look in the bureaus, you’ll see a bunch of old large T-shirts. I hope those will do as sleep shirts tonight.”

  He didn’t have a stash of girl clothes. This place wasn’t any old bachelor pad. It was dear to him. No woman friend had ever met his requirements for sleepover status.

  “T-shirts will be grand,” Nana said with a little quiver in her voice. “Thank you, darlin’.”

  Dexter meowed in his box. Cissie hugged her grandmother good night—Boone did, too—and they shut her door.

  It was just the two of them now. An awkward silence descended. But then Dexter scratched at his cardboard trap.

  “Patience, cat,” Cissie whispered.

  “We need to get him situated,” Boone said. “Your room is down here.”

  It was only twenty feet down the hall, but it felt like a lifetime getting there. Years and years of knowing each other but never interacting hung between them like brittle porcelain shelf objects never moved, dusted, or noticed anymore. It was embarrassing.

  “Thanks again for having us over,” Cissie said. “It’s the last thing either of us expected.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Guilt assuaged him. He had a house to come home to, unlike Cissie at the moment.

  “I love the rag rugs up here,” she said, “and the plank floors everywhere.”

  He liked that she liked the place. “My great-grandfather designed the house. The decorating up here was my grandmother’s doing.”

  He opened her bedroom door and gestured for her to go first, then came in behind her with Dexter’s box. He leaned back against the door to shut it before putting the box on the floor. Nana sang a little ditty in the bathroom.

  “Bless her heart,” Cissie said softly, “after the night she’s had?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll bring up the rest of your cat’s equipment. You can let him loose meanwhile and have him get used to the place.”

  “Okay.”

  He opened the box, and Dexter sprang out. The expression on the cat’s face would have been comical if it also hadn’t been sad. Dexter had lost his home. At least for a while.

  Cissie smiled wanly. “He’s fine. Look, he’s already found a chair.” And he had. He’d leapt into the sole armchair in the room and was in the process of curling up. “I wonder if I’m that predictable?”

  Boone assumed it was a rhetorical question.

  “On the one hand, it’s good to know what comes next.” Her voice was soft and sexy, and she didn’t even know it. “But on the other, when things shift beyond your control, you’re not always flexible enough to go with it.” She stared at the wall. “I’ve been sitting behind that desk in the library a long, long time.” Then she looked at him. “Sitting’s bad for you. It’s the new smoking.”

  “I guess it is,” Boone said, feeling bemused. “Hey, you’re tired. You’ll be plenty ready to tackle the world in the morning. Why don’t you get settled? I’ll come back up in five minutes.”

  But when he returned with Dexter’s water bowl, food, and kitty litter, Cissie hadn’t moved. He dropped everything off and paused at the door. “I have to tell you something,” he began. But he didn’t know how to say it.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes?”

  He couldn’t help marveling that a librarian, of all people, was about to sleep over in his private abode. “I’m really glad you weren’t at home tonight.”

  She looked at the carpet. A delicate furrow appeared on her brow before she looked up at him with those large, luminous eyes, which her glasses couldn’t disguise. “Maybe I have you to thank for that. You want to move the library. I staged the sit-in. And so…”

  He hadn’t thought of that. “Life’s weird sometimes.”

  She nodded.

  “Anything else you need?”

  Now she gave a tiny shake of her head.

  “Cissie,” he said carefully, still ashamed that he’d called her Suzie, “I want to help.” He didn’t care if she wanted him to lasso the moon. He’d do it, just like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

  She paused. “I can’t sleep,” she finally whispered. “I know I won’t. I’ll be up all night thinking about stuff.”

  Of course she would. The wind had died down a lot, shifted directions even, but it was still making its presence known, as it did most nights on the mountain. Every little sweep and moan of it would remind her of what had happened to that grand tree and her family home.

  Boone knew a way to get her through the night. He was a dog thinking along those lines, but she was driving him crazy with her closed-off librarian expressions and her total disregard of him as a man. He couldn’t help imagining her with no clothes on. They were in a bedroom. He took a swift glance at her hand. Neither one of them was married or engaged, and they were closing in on midnight.

  What guy’s thoughts wouldn’t turn to sex?

  “I get that,” he said. “Tonight’s been really rough.”

  She looked at him with a slightly wistful expression, her toes turned in, her hands gripping the side of the bed. Was she thinking about how much she wanted to sleep? How much she wished she hadn’t lost part of her house? Or how much she wanted him to leave?

  “Hey,” he said, “if you’d like to come downstairs and watch a movie and have a drink or two to unwind, we can.” He had a lot to do in the morning, but of course, he’d do that. It was the very least he could do.

  “I’d love to watch TV,” she said, “maybe. But…”

  “But what?”

  She bit her lip. “I’d rather—”

  “I’ll help out with anything. You name it.”

  She looked toward the bathroom door. All was quiet there, although Nana had left on the fan.

  Something in him kicked up a notch. His sixth sense. His sixth sex sense. That look on her face when she was checking to see if Nana could hear …

  She was being kind of furtive—he could swear that was guilt warring with something else on her face. Her mouth was pouty, and her color was high—

  He saw desire. Plain as day.

  Cissie Rogers wanted him.

  He had an immediate physical response, which was why he made a casual quarter turn, put his hand on the doorknob, and prepared himself to be propositioned.

  Or not.

  She was probably too shy.

  “I’d like to—” Cissie took a deep breath.

  “Maybe you should just go to bed.” He’d never been with a girl like Cissie.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You should anyway.”

  “But I never got to tell you what I’d like to—”

  “I’ve got to go downstairs.” He looked at his wrist, which had no watch on it.

  “But I want to sleep with you,” she blurted out.

  Shit.

  “Boone? You said”—she swallowed hard—“to ask for anything.”

  “Yeah, um…” He scratched his temple, thinking he could calm the tribal beat of his primitive heart, which wanted nothing more than to lay her down and have his way with her right there. “That’s a big request.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I have a problem with you asking or anything.”

  The hot librarian wanted to sleep with him, even though she didn’t especiall
y like him. And she had the guts to say so. It blew his mind.

  “Is that a yes?” Her eyes were beautiful, the same smoky blue as the haze that clung to the mountains. “I thought we had fun dancing.…” She trailed off.

  They both watched her foot trace a little pattern on the floor.

  “We did have fun,” he said. “It’s just that—”

  “Never mind. Really.” Her face was bright red. “I stepped on your feet in that parking lot, didn’t I?”

  “No, you didn’t,” he lied, and tried to smile. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m a guy, and I’m flattered. But I’m also seriously worried about you regretting this in the morning. You’ve had a helluva night. So my gut is telling me no way. I need to walk away right now. And you’ll be glad I did.”

  “Don’t.” She stood up, her fingers splaying, then curling. “I’m thirty-two years old. A huge tree I always thought would be standing long after I’m gone fell on my house tonight. I could have lost my cat. I’m worried about how Nana will handle the interruption to our lives, and whether this was a big shock to her system. I’m losing my library, and heck—what else have I got to lose? Things could go up in smoke like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Any day.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath and wrapped her arms around herself.

  He went to her, put his hands in his front pockets, thumbs out, his favorite “I’m at ease” pose. He sometimes assumed it even when he wasn’t relaxed. It reminded him to be.

  “Nana will be okay,” he said. “And if she’s different after this for a while—maybe a little slower or more cautious—it’s only natural that it happens. That’s her adapting. And so will you. You’re strong. In your prime. You act like thirty-two is ancient.”

  She lowered her lashes. “In sex years it is.”

  That was funny. But probably not to her.

  “I’ve seen you at that library,” he said. “Don’t forget, you carry that person around with you. The woman who shushes people who dare to break her rules. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Thanks.” A sliver of a smile made her lips all the more luscious. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember. And—sometimes I want to forget. I want to let go. Let someone else be strong.” She looked right into his eyes. “You can make that happen.”

  She wasn’t giving up.

  “Please?” She bit her lower lip. “As a one-time favor? No strings attached?”

  He exhaled. “I don’t know.”

  “It’ll be the perfect cure for insomnia,” she assured him. “Because that’s what I’m going to have tonight, and not just from the tree and the sit-in. Part of it will be because”—she did that sneaky looking-around thing again—“you’re downstairs.”

  “You’re doing your damnedest to seduce me, aren’t you?” He tried to speak low, for Nana’s sake—God forbid she hear any of this—but it came out sounding like he was seriously charmed and turned on.

  Which he was.

  His unlikely seductress nodded, her eyes wide.

  He let a beat go by. “All right, Cissie Rogers, I’d love to sleep with you.” And it was true. He couldn’t wait to get started. Maybe he’d burn in hell for it, but right now the little devil on his shoulder was wide awake and in charge.

  “Oh!” Her face brightened. “Do you … do you have protection?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I guess we can”—she looked away shyly—“proceed.”

  “As long as we understand each other. This is a one-time thing.”

  “And Nana and I are finding another place to stay tomorrow.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. But what about next time I see you? You’re sure you’re up for the, ah, potential awkwardness?”

  “Yes,” she said plainly. “But are you?”

  “I’ll be okay.” She was kind of cute being worried about him.

  “I’m sure you’ve done this before, and you probably walk through town and see lots of women you’ve—” She paused.

  “That’s probably a good place to stop talking.” He wanted to smile, but she was too pretty right then behind her glasses. All he could think about was kissing her. Right then and there. Kissing away the worry he saw in her eyes.

  He leaned forward to do just that, but she laid her hand on his chest.

  “I didn’t finish explaining,” she said. “And I really need to. But … I’m not sure what else to say. Yet. I think it’ll come to me as we go along.”

  “Maybe it will.” She was a little complicated. But he could handle that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cissie might not know exactly what her long-range plan was, but when Boone took her hand, she knew she was leaving behind her rut for good. The library, the house, her soul mate … she had a lot of grabbing and a-gettin’ to do, not much control of any of it, and time was rushing by. She was going to be like Nana and seize life by the horns and ride it hard.

  She gulped at the metaphor. It was very easy to make it entirely sexual. But tonight with Boone was only a start.

  They went down the stairs at a trot, feet in syncopated rhythm. The awkwardness she’d felt earlier was gone. They had a shared purpose, at least temporarily.

  “You can change your mind,” he said as they passed the media room she hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “I don’t want to.” She was still clinging to his hand.

  He stopped and leaned her up against a wall. She was terrified. Excited.

  She wanted him.

  He pushed her glasses up, pulled some hair back from her face. “Cissie Rogers,” he murmured, his palms on the wall on either side of her face. “Who knew?”

  His mouth was a mere fraction of an inch away from hers.

  Kiss me now. Now. She jutted her chin up.

  He gave a little laugh. “Still waters sure run deep.”

  He slanted his mouth over hers, and she melted into him. Perfect is what she thought, and when his tongue claimed her mouth as his territory to explore, she changed her mind. This. This is even more perfect.

  No, it wasn’t possible to improve on perfection, but the rules didn’t apply to her anymore. Starting tonight. She was kissing her fantasy man, and he exceeded her every expectation.

  “You’re a very sexy woman.” He caressed her hip.

  She felt adored. Desirable.

  “You’re like candy,” she whispered. And she was having fun. So much fun.

  “Really?” he murmured against her mouth. “You and me together are a lot like a Hail Mary pass. You don’t expect it to work. But when it does.…” He paused. “You know what a Hail Mary pass is?”

  “I do now.”

  He grinned. “You’re a good sport.” Then he put both hands around her back and yanked her playfully close, his eyes full of all kinds of promise.

  Oh, boy. She tried to focus on his gorgeous face, but the zippered-up part of him drew most of her attention. Her heart rate ratcheted up. He was ready for her in a major way. She couldn’t help blushing and didn’t remember being nervous the last time she’d gotten this far—she’d been pretty annoyed, actually, because it had been with a pushy guy she’d met at a college reunion weekend a few years back—but now she was nervous all over.

  “Boone?” She simply had to go for it. This part wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the actual asking had been. She could get through it.

  “Yeah?” He nuzzled her ear with his lips.

  It tickled. But she loved it. “Remember I told you I might have other stuff to tell you as we went along?”

  “I do.”

  She let a small sigh escape. “I’m almost a virgin. I’ve had sex once. Ten years ago.”

  He immediately pulled back. “Really?”

  It was embarrassing to admit. Part of her felt like crying. All that suppressed stress she’d tried to ignore, the years of worrying, wondering, waiting …

  She nodded, heat rushing to her face. “So I’m
not sure that I’m doing it right.”

  He smiled. “There’s honest-to-God”—he put up his palm—“no wrong way.”

  She was glad his tone wasn’t pitying. He was treating this like a practical matter. Her nerves retreated a half step. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” He swung her up into his arms before she even knew what he was doing. “Sex is like heaven. Or Disney World. Fun all the time. Leave your cares behind.”

  He started whistling “When You Wish upon a Star.”

  Happiness surged through her like … like the chocolate river in Willy Wonka’s factory. Why not? She’d always wanted to jump in that river. Now she allowed herself the simple joy of watching her legs bounce as her soon-to-be-lover carried her past the kitchen and kicked open a partially closed door.

  They entered a vast space, the master bedroom. It was all guy. She focused on the quilt on the bed that some gifted mountain artisan had labored over. It was abstract: wobbly circles, rings of deep color—reds, blues, yellows. So much energy!

  Like Boone. He probably had a lot of energy on that bed.

  She was getting more scared and excited than ever. She tried hard to disguise it by breathing long, slow breaths through her nose and not letting her chest rise and fall too much.

  “That’s actually an antique pattern,” he said. “I commissioned someone to copy it.”

  “It looks like it could go in MoMA.” The Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Maybe he didn’t know what that was … had he ever left Kettle Knob? She didn’t feel she could ask. And she certainly didn’t want to come across as a snob and start explaining—

  “I fly to a MoMA gala once a year,” he said with a chuckle.

  That must mean he was a big contributor. “I wasn’t wondering—”

  He had the grace to kiss her then, long and deep.

  She’d made the best decision of her life tonight.

  On the opposing wall, across the stretch of floor where he stood cradling her, was a plump divan, a cool modern reading lamp, a small table to hold books (she saw To Kill a Mockingbird on top), and a massive flagstone fireplace flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows which marched down the length of the room.

  No curtains.

  “Wow, what a view. All stars. And that moon.” Her heart hurt just looking at it.