The Welcoming

too?”
    “From time to time.” Recovered, she stood up and smoothed the bottom sheet on the bed. “There’s soap and towels in the bath,” she told him, then tilted her head. “Looks like you can use them.” She unfolded the top sheet with an expert flick. “Been busy?”
    “That was the deal.”
    With a murmur of agreement, she tucked up the corners at the foot of the bed the way he remembered his grandmother doing. “I put an extra pillow and blanket in the closet.” She moved from one side of the bed to the other in a way that had him watching her with simple male appreciation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone make a bed. It stirred thoughts in him that he couldn’t afford. Thoughts of what it might be like to mess it up again—with her.
    “Do you ever stop?”
    “I’ve been known to.” She spread a white wedding-ring quilt on the bed. “We’re expecting a tour tomorrow, so everyone’s a bit busy.”
    “Tomorrow?”
    “Mmm. On the first ferry from Sidney.” She fluffed his pillows, satisfied. “Did you—”
    She broke off when she turned and all but fell against him. His hands went to her hips instinctively as hers braced against his shoulders. An embrace—unplanned, unwanted and shockingly intimate.
    She was slender beneath the long, chunky sweater, he realized, even more slender than a man might expect. And her eyes were bluer than they had any right to be, bigger, softer. She smelled like the inn, smelled of that welcoming combination of lavender and woodsmoke. Drawn to it, he continued to hold her, though he knew he shouldn’t.
    “Did I what?” His fingers spread over her hips, drawing her just a fraction closer. He saw the dazed confusion in her eyes; her reaction tugged at him.
    She’d forgotten everything. She could only stare, almost stupefied by the sensations that spiked through her. Involuntarily her fingers curled into his shirt. She got an impression of strength, a ruthless strength with the potential for violence. The fact that it excited her left her speechless.
    “Do you want something?” he murmured.
    “What?”
    He thought about kissing her, about pressing his mouth hard on hers and plunging into her. He would enjoy the taste, the momentary passion. “I asked if you wanted something.” Slowly he ran his hands up under her sweater to her waist.
    The shock of heat, the press of fingers, brought her back. “No.” She started to back away, found herself held still, and fought her rising panic. Before she could speak again, he had released her. Disappointment. That was an odd reaction, she thought, when you’d just missed getting burned.
    “I was—” She took a deep breath and waited for her scattered nerves to settle. “I was going to ask if you’d found everything you needed.”
    His eyes never left hers. “It looks like it.”
    She pressed her lips together to moisten them. “Good. I’ve got a lot to do, so I’ll let you get back.”
    He took her arm before she could step away. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but he wanted to touch her again. “Thanks for the towels.”
    “Sure.”
    He watched her hurry out, knowing her nerves were as jangled as his own. Thoughtfully he pulled out a cigarette. He couldn’t remember ever having been thrown off balance so easily. Certainly not by a woman who’d done nothing more than look at him. Still, he made a habit of landing on his feet.
    It might be to his advantage to get close to her, to play on the response he’d felt from her. Ignoring a wave of self-disgust, he struck a match.
    He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to think about Charity Ford as anything more than a means to an end.
    He drew smoke in, cursing the dull ache in his belly.

Chapter 2
    It was barely dawn, and the sky to the east was fantastic. Roman stood near the edge of the narrow road, his hands tucked in his back pockets. Though he rarely had time for them, he enjoyed mornings such as this, when the air was cool and sparkling clear. A man could breathe here, and if he could afford the luxury he could empty his mind and simply experience.
    He’d promised himself thirty minutes, thirty solitary, soothing minutes. The blooming sunlight pushed through the cloud formations, turning them into wild, vivid colors and shapes. Dream shapes. He considered lighting a cigarette, then rejected it. For the moment he wanted only the taste of morning air flavored by the sea.
    There was a dog barking in the distance, a faint yap, yap,