Upstairs, Isabella sat in her darkened bedroom, her thoughts stormy as she went back over every minute of the evening.
And Colin’s kiss. They had taunted each other. She shouldn’t have said the things to him that she had, but she was disappointed with the man he had become. If he had been antisocial and mean, she would have left him alone about his future. But he’d once been so alive, the change seemed like a betrayal of the old Colin.
His plans for the rest of his days were grim. Going into seclusion. Giving up love and friends and family.
She touched her lips lightly, remembering his kiss again. She shouldn’t have started that kiss, but what he had said had made her angry. And then after the first startled seconds, he had responded fully. As far as kisses went, his had been devastating. Just thinking about their kiss, she grew hot and ached to kiss him again. Something she couldn’t do—shouldn’t do—impossible.
He had come to life all right, kissing her senseless. Too vividly, she recalled each detail of his arms around her, holding her pressed tightly against him, his tongue stroking hers, his thick shaft pressing against her. And her heart pounding wildly, her breath gone, her pulse racing.
Tomorrow he would be gone forever. How long would she remember tonight?
She hurt for him and knew she shouldn’t. She should let go worrying about Boone’s friend. While she stared into the dark, all she could see were Colin’s gray eyes and somber expression and remember how he had been a brave, idealistic man filled with vitality and enthusiasm. All of that was gone, and she could understand why from what he told her. He had mended physically, now he needed to mend emotionally.
“Right, Isabella,” she said to herself. “Go save him from himself.” She gave a harsh laugh. He was sexy, appealing and lost. And she wanted to save him. What a project!
The man didn’t want to be saved and if she delved much deeper, she might find she had opened a Pandora’s box of problems. Let him go tomorrow. Don’t spend time with him. Leave him for Boone and Mike and Jonah to deal with. That’s what he wants anyway.
Yet—she thought about his kiss and how full of vitality he once was. She inhaled deeply. Did she want to save him or to seduce him?
She shook her head. When had a man tangled her thoughts or her life as Colin Garrick had tonight? Never. Never once had she lost sleep over a man or argued with herself or done anything she was going through now. Even when she’d gone with Drake a year and he had proposed, she had never been tied in knots, never wanted to marry.
Forget Colin, she told herself. Blank Colonel Garrick out of mind and let him go. He’s a wounded sparrow she was trying to save. Walk on by and ignore him. He doesn’t want to be saved. And it wasn’t “walk on by,” it was “run for your life.” He was a threat to her peace of mind.
She closed her eyes and gripped the arms of the chair and wished she could take back the best kiss of her life.
The very best. She inhaled deeply and wondered if she should go work out.
Reluctantly, she got up and dressed and went to the exercise room to pedal and jog, to banish the memory of Colin’s searing kiss.
It was almost dawn when she fell asleep. Jessie’s crying woke her and she went to pick up the baby and change her diaper. Then, slipping into a robe, she took Jessie to the kitchen to feed her.
When she entered the room, Colin was seated at the table. Seeing her, he stood with that lithe ease that indicated how strong and fit he was. Coffee was already brewing and he had made scrambled eggs and bacon. The orange juice was poured, toast buttered. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, he looked fit, tough and in prime condition. His black hair was combed back. Her heart thudded because all she could remember was standing in his embrace last night as he’d kissed her. And she realized she was only in her cotton gown and robe.
“I didn’t know you’d be awake,” she said, sounding ridiculous.
“I’m here and I can feed her while you eat, if you’d like.”
“You feed her and I’ll dress,” Isabella said impulsively thrusting the child into his arms.
His eyebrows shot up as he surveyed Jessie. “Isabella, I don’t know one thing about a baby. I’ll feed her, but you need to show me what to feed her and how to do it.”
“It’s easy. She loves oatmeal and milk and the oatmeal is in the cabinet,” Isabella instructed before she fled the room to get dressed. Let him cope with little Jessie. If he was a colonel, he was up to the task of getting breakfast for a baby. He needed a baby in his arms. Who could turn his back on life after dealing with Jessie?
She showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and took her time brushing her hair and pulling on boots, wondering how Colin was getting along with little Jessie. Isabella hadn’t heard any screams coming from the kitchen.
Finally she returned to the kitchen.
She had to smother a laugh. Jessie was in her high chair and she had oatmeal all over her face and in her fists and her hair. And Colin had oatmeal in his hair, too, on his shirt and face.
“How’s breakfast?” she asked, holding back laughter. Colin turned to look at her and narrowed his eyes.
“You come finish this. I told you I don’t know one damn thing about a baby. I think she’s had about two bites of oatmeal and you can see where the rest went. Dammit, I don’t have many changes of clothing.”
“There’s a washing machine and, as you said, clothes will wash,” she said blithely, getting a wet paper towel to clean Jessie. She turned around as Colin stood and pulled off his T-shirt. His muscled body was lean and fit, but scars covered his back and ran across his shoulders, chest and arms.
Her breath caught in her throat; the scars didn’t change his appeal one bit. They did remind her of what Colin had gone through, how the years had changed him.
“I told you they had to put me all back together,” he said when he turned around and caught her staring.
She looked up and met his gaze. “If you think I’m staring because you have scars, think again,” she whispered. The air crackled with searing heat as his eyes darkened and he inhaled deeply.
“I wouldn’t have admitted that to you except you have a very mistaken notion about your appearance,” she added.
Feeling as if her face were on fire from embarrassment over her admission, she moved to the chair to finish feeding Jessie. Colin stood in her peripheral vision and she knew he hadn’t moved, but she couldn’t face him.
“If I weren’t covered with oatmeal—” He broke off his sentence and left the room in long strides.
She closed her eyes and let out her breath. She fed Jessie, relieved the minute Jessie finished and she could clean the toddler’s face and hands and escape from the kitchen before Colin returned.
Isabella bathed and dressed Jessie in a pink jumper and shirt, carrying her to the nursery and sitting on the floor to play with her, leaving Colin to entertain himself. If she had just looked away, she wouldn’t have had to explain herself. But she hadn’t, and that was that.
“I wondered where you two had gone.”
She turned to see Colin in the doorway, dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt, leaning one shoulder against the jamb. He held his oatmeal-covered clothing balled in his hand. “Where’s the washer?”
“Come join us,” she said while Jessie clapped her hands and held her arms out to him.
Isabella pointed. “Right through that door in the utility room. As soon as you put your clothes in to wash, come join us. Jessie likes you,” she said, and he shook his head.
“I don’t know why,” he said upon his return. “Unless she hopes to throw some more oatmeal my way.” He didn’t make a move to pick up Jessie and she lost interest in