She didn’t notice the time passing, nor did she observe the snow that had accumulated on the ground around the lodge. She concentrated totally on Hayden, the inflexible line of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones, the way his lips barely moved as he spoke.
By the time they’d finished coffee, two inches of snow had fallen. “Looks like we’re here for the night,” Hayden observed as he paid the bill and glanced outside.
“Doesn’t your Jeep have four-wheel drive?”
His grin crept from one side of his mouth to the other. “Yes, but it would be a waste not to take advantage of the room I’ve already paid for, don’t you think?”
“What I think,” she said, standing as they left the table, “is that you should have asked me first.”
He pulled her into a shadowy corner near the lobby. “All right. I’m asking.” His eyes held hers. “Will you spend the night with me?”
She swallowed hard and considered all the reasons she should tell him to take her home. Staying would only prolong the heartache and keep the pain alive, and yet she couldn’t resist. “Of course I’ll stay with you,” she whispered, knowing that he didn’t realize she meant for the rest of her life.
* * *
THE ROOM SPRAWLED across most of the top floor. Lustrous hardwood peeked out from beneath thick Oriental carpets and the furnishings of the suite were crafted to look antique. A hurricane lamp sat on the corner of the mantel in the bedroom occupied by a queen-size canopy bed.
A bottle of champagne stood chilling in a stand, and through the French doors leading to a private deck, Nadine noticed steam rising from an outdoor hot tub in a thick cloud, reminding her of the morning fog on Whitefire Lake.
“This is quite a place,” she observed, running her hand over the curve of the bed frame.
“It’s nice.” He struck a match to the fire and lit the lantern before turning down the lights.
“You’ve been here before?” Why it mattered, she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to be just one in a long line of the women he’d brought here.
He nodded, watching her reaction in the beveled glass mirror over the bureau. She felt a jab of pain, but hoped he didn’t notice. In the firelight, his features seemed harsher, more male, and the thought of him with another woman… Oh, God, she loved him too much. “With whom?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly strangled.
While icicles formed in her heart, he had the audacity to smile. “A woman.”
Oh, God.
She fought the urge to walk straight out the door, and when he stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she wished she could find the strength to shake them off. But her willpower seemed to vanish at his touch and her skin heated beneath his fingertips. “Do I know her?”
“You’ve met, I think. A long time ago.”
Wynona. She felt like such a fool and her shoulders drooped a little. He pulled her closer and whispered into her ear. “I was here with my mother. I was ten or eleven at the time, I think.”
Relief flooded through her, and when she met his gaze in the mirror again, she saw the hint of laughter in his crystal-blue eyes. “You are a rotten, mean, miserable—”
“Prince,” he supplied, and she couldn’t help but grin as he twirled her in his arms.
“You’re the king now, you know.”
He shook his head. “Not me. Just a regular Joe.”
“Regular Joes don’t do this—” She motioned to the room and deck.
“They should,” he said, as he lowered his lips over hers and dragged her onto the bed with him. She quit arguing and gave herself body and soul to him. The doubts and fears in her mind were stripped away as surely as were her clothes. The old bed creaked as he removed her jacket, sweater and slacks and, while she was dressed only in her bra and panties, he tore off his own clothes. His shoes clunked as they hit the floor and were followed quickly by his slacks and shirt. In the firelight, his chest seemed bronze, the swirling black hairs darker than ever. His body was taut and strong, and she was reminded of a Native American warrior, so sinewy were his thighs and shoulders. But his eyes were blue, a tribute to his Anglo ancestors.
“This is the way it should be,” he whispered, as his arms folded around her and he nibbled at the skin of her neck. Her pulse jumped and her blood flowed like liquid fire through her veins. His chest hair was stiff and curly against her skin and he seemed all hard and angular where she was soft and supple. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her long and hard, his tongue exploring, his hands moving sensually along her rib cage.
He shoved her bra away from her breast, kissing the nipple with featherlight strokes that caused her to writhe and arch against him.
“Slow down,” he said, his lips brushing her breasts, his breath caressing her nipple. “We’ve got all night.”
It sounded so good. She cradled his head against her breast as he removed the rest of her clothes. She reveled in his touch and her heart pounded as his fingers grazed her nipple before he lowered his mouth and teased her with his lips and tongue. His hands sculpted her back, holding her firmly to him, making her feel the length of his hardness pressed deep against her abdomen.
His hands worked magic as they explored her, touching her in intimate places, causing her heart to beat as rapidly as the wings of a hummingbird. Lovingly he caressed her, moving with a slow steady hand that only increased when her body requested a faster tempo.
The room seemed to spin, the heat within her coiled, whirling so quickly that she closed her eyes. But still the candlelight was there, in bright vibrant colors that exploded behind her eyelids and caused her body to quake in violent convulsions that ripped a primeval sound from her throat. “Hayden,” she cried in that foreign voice.
“I’m right here,” he assured her as she clung to him. He let her body slow, and only when her breathing was even and her eyelids fluttered open, did he kiss her again. “Okay, love, now it’s my turn,” he said.
She reached for him, but he picked her up and carried her outside where the cold air brought goose bumps to her flesh. “Are you crazy? What’re you doing?” she cried as he set her into the hot tub and followed after her. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Not in the water.”
“But—”
He kissed her and cut off further protests, and there in the steamy water, with snowflakes sticking to their hair, he gently prodded her knees apart and claimed her for his own.
* * *
LATER, WRAPPED ONLY in a bath sheet, she dialed her home, accessed her answering machine code and discovered no messages, so she hung up feeling less irresponsible. Hayden came up behind her, stripped away the bath towel and forced her back to the bed.
The night passed quickly in a haze of lovemaking and glasses of champagne. They fell asleep sometime before dawn and when she finally awoke, the sun was high in the sky, glistening off six inches of fresh snow. Hayden stood by the window, dressed only in his shorts, staring at the trees. When he heard her stir, he turned and spying her sprawled upon the bed, grinned mischievously.
“This is the way I’d like to wake up every morning.”
Her traitorous heart skipped a beat, but she ignored it and stretched lazily.
Hayden’s gaze moved to her breasts, covered only by the sheets, and he stifled a groan. “We’ll never get out of here if you don’t quit that.”
“Quit what?” she taunted, and he swore under his breath.
“You little tease.”
“Me?” she asked innocently, and he crossed the few feet and threw himself over the bed.
“Yes, you.”
She laughed as he pinned her beneath the covers and kissed her.
“You are the most exciting, impulsive and impossible woman ever to set foot on this earth.”
“May I take that as a comp
liment?”
“Take it any way you like.” He kissed her gently, then propped his head up with one hand. “If you don’t get up, you’re in for serious trouble, lady.”
She knew that. But she didn’t want this bliss to end. She stroked his beard-roughened cheek with her hand and touched the tiny scar that sliced through one of his brows. “What’s this from?” she asked, and watched as his smile faded.
“Compliments of my old man.”
“But how?”
“We had a disagreement. He couldn’t get through to me with words, so he used his fist. Not here…but he hit me so hard I fell and cut myself on the stair rail. I think I was fifteen.”
Her stomach squeezed in pain. “What was the fight about?”
He snorted. “I can’t even remember.” He was stretched out on the top of the sheet and she saw the other scars on his body, neatly stitched gashes on his legs.
“And these?”
He glanced down when her finger touched one of the bluish marks. “From the accident,” he said coldly.
“The what?”
“In the boat. With Wynona.”
“Oh.” She drew back her hand, but he threaded his fingers through hers and sighed.
“It’s okay. That all happened a long time ago. Now, you’d better get up. I’d love to spend the rest of the weekend here, but unfortunately duty calls.”
“The mill?”
“The mill,” he replied grimly, as he reached for his slacks. “But before we go back, we should eat breakfast. Steak, eggs, pancakes—the works.”
She shook her head. “How about coffee and a piece of toast?”
“Whatever your heart desires,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead before throwing back the covers and exposing her naked form. With a sardonic smile, he kicked off his slacks again. “On second thought…”
* * *
BY THE TIME they returned to Gold Creek, the sun was low in the sky. Nadine thought about the work stretched out before her; she had promised Elizabeth new merchandise. Two of the jackets were complete, the third was almost done, but she only had about a dozen pairs of earrings finished. Then there was some Christmas shopping and planning the traditional meal for her father, the boys and Ben. And Hayden? Was that possible?
Hayden folded his hand over hers. “You could come spend the rest of the weekend at my house.”
The offer was tempting. “I don’t think so. I’ve got a lot of work to do—”
He placed his hand on her knee, and his gaze slid in her direction. “Won’t it keep overnight? I’ll build a fire and we’ll have eggnog and you can help me with my tree. Remember, I’m still an amateur at this.”
“You’re twisting my arm.”
“I’ll bring you back early in the morning, I promise.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” she said with a chuckle. “This time I’m going to hold you to it.”
They stopped by Nadine’s place, where she gave Hershel fresh food and water, checked the mail and the phone messages, grabbed a small suitcase with a change of clothes and her makeup, and then they were on their way. In Gold Creek they purchased a Christmas tree, a stand and some decorations along with a few supplies and groceries.
Darkness had settled on the lake as they pulled into the drive of Hayden’s house. Through the tall trees, the lights of the house winked brightly.
“That’s odd,” Hayden said, his hands tightening over the wheel as they rounded the final bend and the headlights of his rig washed over the shiny finish of a white Jaguar. “Damn it all to hell,” he ground out as he stood on the brakes and the Jeep slid to a stop.
“Who’s here?” Nadine asked, uneasiness tightening into a hard ball in the pit of her stomach.
“Wynona,” he ground out, stepping down from the Jeep.
Nadine froze. Wynona Galveston was here? Through the locked gates and inside the locked house? As if she had her own key?
Hayden was striding furiously up the front walk when the door burst open, and Wynona, her supple body framed by interior lights, appeared.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said, smiling brightly. Her blond hair caught in the moonlight as she ran from the front door and threw herself into Hayden’s arms.
Nadine held back a small cry. Her insides shriveled and she felt the urge to run, to get as far away from Hayden as possible. But she kept her wits about her and took a deep breath. His relationship with Wynona might not be what it seemed.
Gathering her courage, Nadine found the door handle of the Jeep and slowly let herself out. The air was cold, blowing off the lake in wintry gusts. A thin layer of clouds partially obscured the moon, but she could see clearly as Hayden slowly peeled Wynona’s arms from around his neck.
“…but you have to help me,” Wynona was saying, tears frozen in her eyes.
“I don’t have to do a damned thing.”
“You owe me.”
“I told you before I owe you nothing.” His voice was harsh and callous. Nadine felt bitter and betrayed.
“How can you be so cruel?” Wynona demanded, sobbing openly. “If it weren’t for you—”
“Don’t start this.”
“You nearly killed me,” she cried, tears running freely from her eyes.
Nadine’s stomach turned sour. She shouldn’t listen to this. Yet she couldn’t turn away.
“I didn’t—”
Wynona’s fury unleashed. “The accident was your fault, Hayden. It was your fault I nearly died, and damn it all to hell, it was your fault I lost the baby!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
A BABY?
Nadine’s knees nearly gave out. Hayden and Wynona had created an unborn baby who had died in the boating accident? Oh, God, what was she doing here? Pain seared her soul. She’d believed him, she’d loved him, she’d given herself to him; and Hayden hadn’t even thought enough of her to tell her the truth. “How can you be so cruel?” Wynona broke into hysterical sobs, and Nadine felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach by an iron fist. She leaned against a tall pine for support and wished she’d never become involved with him again, never heard Wynona’s pathetic pleas. Her stomach roiled to think she’d imagined she’d loved him—a man who had—Oh, God, little by little she was dying inside.
Hayden swore loudly. “Damn it, Wynona, don’t you think you’ve got your facts twisted a bit?”
“You were there, Hayden. And you abandoned me. For some cheap little small-town whore—ouch!”
Stricken, Nadine glanced up and saw Hayden grab Wynona by the shoulders and give her an angry shake. “Don’t you ever talk about her—”
“Oh, Christ, don’t tell me you’re still in love with her!” Wynona’s eyes narrowed, and the tears seemed to melt away. As Nadine drew closer, Wynona’s gaze collided with hers and she sucked in her breath. “Well, I’ll be,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You still have your little redheaded piece of—”
“Stop it!” He shook her again.
Wynona’s eyes were frigid and her lip curled. “Just like your old man, aren’t you, Hayden? One woman was never enough for him and it looks like you’re just the same.”
He dropped her as if touching her skin had scorched his fingers. “Get out, Wynona.”
Rubbing her arms, she said, “You haven’t seen the last of me. You and your father owe me. Big-time. Promises were made. Nothing’s changed just because he died.”
“Like hell. I’m in charge now.”
“And you’re trying to cut me off!”
“Take it up with Bradworth. Maybe you can strike a private deal with him.”
She tried to slap him, but he was too quick. He caught her wrist in his hand and shoved her back. “Don’t be stupid, Wynona.”
“You bastard! You sick, f
ilthy bastard!”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he said, and she yanked her hand away. Throwing a scathing glance at Nadine, she strode into the house, grabbed her purse and fur coat, and with the mink waving behind her like a sleek banner, she stormed to her car.
She threw the Jaguar into reverse, backed into a tree and smashed her taillight. Metal crunched and glass splintered. Wynona shoved the car into Drive and roared away, tires spitting gravel, one red taillight winking brightly through the trees.
Nadine was shaking so badly, she could barely move. She thought she might throw up as the pieces of Hayden’s past fit together into an ugly, painful puzzle.
“What do they say about a woman scorned?” Hayden asked.
Nadine couldn’t answer. Her mouth was dry as cotton, her guts twisted and the pain in her bruised heart wouldn’t go away. “I think I should leave,” she said, tears threatening her eyes.
“Because of what Wynona said?”
She nodded, and the first drops of rain started to fall from the sky, touching her cheeks and splashing on the ground. “There was a baby?” she whispered, her fists clenched so tightly, her fingernails dug into her palms. She prayed that she misunderstood, but the hardening of Hayden’s jaw, the tightening of his mouth at its corners only confirmed the worst of her fears. The bottom of Nadine’s world seemed to fall out from under her.
“Yes, there was a baby, but it wasn’t mine.”
“Hayden, don’t lie—”
“I’m not, damn it!” He grabbed her and dragged her wooden body close to his. “You have to believe me.”
“But you never said a word,” she cried, her trust in him unraveling as quickly as an old seam in an antique dress. How could she have trusted him, made love to him, given her heart to him when she knew so little about him?
“There are reasons.”
“Reasons? What reasons? You didn’t want me to know because then I wouldn’t be so easily seduced, is that it? Or were you trying to make yourself look better in my eyes?” Icy rain was falling heavily now, trickling in the gutters and pooling on the walks. Frigid drops drizzled down Nadine’s face and throat.