“In the front room.”
Brad made his way down the hall to the overlooking balcony and found her kneeling in front of the stone hearth. In her hands, she held a pair of heavy iron fireplace tongs. “What are you doing, beautiful?”
“Trying to light this fire.” She shoved at a log in the hearth with the tongs, sending ash gusting back into her face. “Damn it.” Using the fat sleeve to her robe, she wiped at her face. “The power’s off, and I’m cold. But this log didn’t catch right, and I can’t get it to move out of the way.”
Her words made sense, but they completely contradicted the high-pitched whistle of a tea kettle that came from the kitchen. “How are you cooking if there’s no electricity?” The minute the question spilled free, he wanted to kick himself. Gas range—he knew it before she ever supplied the answer. And if the electricity was out, it must have snowed as Clinton said it would, which explained why Cassie was still in her robe.
Brad descended the stairs and glanced out the window, confirming it was still snowing, before he made his way to the hearth and tugged on his jeans. He crouched at her side, plucked the tongs out of her hands, and set them aside. Turning to her, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Morning.” He dipped his head, brushed his mouth across hers. “The next time you’re cold, wake me. I wasn’t finished with you yet.”
Her frown was immediate and troubling. “I thought I’d—”
He captured her lower lip between his teeth to give it a not-so-gentle nip. “Ease up, I was teasing. Mostly.”
She nodded, rocked back on her heels, and huffed out a breath as she tucked her hands in her lap. “I don’t know the rules, Brad.”
Rules? Frowning, he cocked his head. “What rules?”
“To…this.” She motioned her hand between them. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with the fire.”
“Sweetheart.” Sighing, he sat down and drew her between his spread legs. Great, she’d taken his remark the wrong way. Winding his arms around her waist, Brad scattered kisses over the exposed skin at her neckline. “Thank you. I wasn’t scolding you, and if that’s breakfast I smell, I could prostrate myself at your feet.”
“I doubt that.” Her chuckle made him smile.
“Well…within reason.” He nudged her hair aside with his nose and feathered his lips down the length of her neck. “There’s only one thing you need to remember. I need to indulge in you before I go to sleep, and I want to do so again when I wake up.” He caught himself and quickly amended, “For the week I’m here, that should cover it. Deal?”
As a shiver tripped through her, he eased her out of his lap and gave her bottom a playful swat. Smirking, he winked. “I’ll take care of the fire. You handle the stove—unless you like your food blackened.”
The teasing was enough to erase her troubled expression and unleash the power of her smile. She eased to her feet with a laugh. “Yes…sir,” she quipped sarcastically as she sauntered from the room.
Beneath his loose fly, Brad’s cock jumped to attention. Oh hell. She’d pay for that remark later. As a rule, he didn’t like his women submissive outside the bedroom, but he sure as hell could find a way for her to put that word to good use.
He bent to deal with the fireplace logs, yet the totality of their situation descended on his shoulders. Slowly, he bent on one knee and stared at the glowing log. Two days ago they were complete strangers. Yet for a moment there, when he’d held her close and outlined his expectations, he’d actually glimpsed a future with her. Hell, what he’d said even sounded somewhat long-term, not at all a reflection of their real circumstance or the fact he’d be leaving in a handful of days. He was in her house, building a fire in her hearth, while she ran around in a bathrobe and worked on breakfast. Awfully domestic.
Strangely though, it appealed on some untapped level of his subconscious. He liked her. He liked this. They were compatible in so many ways—professionally and personably. Not to mention sexually they were two halves of the same coin. Every fascinating discovery about her made him want to learn more.