She cradled her coffee cup between her palms.
Rick grinned and took a sip of the hot, rich brew. ‘‘When Mrs. Hammond brought the breakfast tray up here, she asked me if I’d heard anything unusual during the night.’’
Eileen’s eyes went wide. ‘‘Unusual?’’
‘‘Uh-huh. Seems that just before the rain started, she heard a loud yelp.’’
She clapped one hand across her mouth. ‘‘Oh, God.’’
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘‘Don’t worry. She thought a coyote had gotten hold of some small animal.’’
‘‘A coyote?’’
‘‘Yeah. Apparently, you hit just the right note to sound like a dying rabbit.’’
She bounced a pillow off his head.
* * *
‘‘Okay, this no more sex thing just isn’t working out.’’
‘‘Yeah, I noticed.’’ Rick rolled to one side of her and lay on his back, struggling to catch his breath.
Lying naked on the braided rug in front of the fireplace, Eileen winced and reached beneath her. She pulled a ballpoint pen out from under her bottom. ‘‘That’s what that was.’’
‘‘Huh?’’
‘‘The pen your last client lost?’’ she asked, holding it up. ‘‘I found it.’’
Rick chuckled, then shook his head. ‘‘What the hell are we doing, Eyeball?’’
‘‘Beats me, Hawkins.’’ Holding the stupid pen, she let her hand drop, falling across her abdomen. ‘‘But if we don’t figure it out soon, we’re gonna end up killing each other.’’
The last client had only left the inn an hour ago and already, Eileen and Rick were naked and exhausted. Sexual heat still shimmered in the air and Eileen felt the first stirrings of need building within her again. Much more of this and they’d be too weak to drive home.
They’d made it through the long day, though the tension between them had been thick enough to chew on. Eileen had taken notes, typed them up and helped Rick draw up the paperwork for two of his clients to diversify their stock holdings. She’d made small talk and tried to avoid meeting Rick’s gaze. She’d felt him watching her as his clients came and went. She’d smiled and visited with the older men who, each in turn, told her what a great catch Rick Hawkins would be. How smart he was. How rich.
Of course, when the talk had turned in that direction, Eileen had actually seen shutters drop across his eyes. As if he was distancing himself from the conversation, even though he had to know the men had only been teasing. She’d had the urge to tell him that he was safe. She wasn’t interested in a ‘‘great catch’’ or any other kind of catch. But in front of his clients, that hadn’t seemed appropriate—and once she and Rick were alone…well, the subject hadn’t come up.
‘‘Well,’’ he said finally, ‘‘our one-night bargain is shot.’’
‘‘Pretty much,’’ she agreed.
‘‘Do we make a new one-night agreement?’’
‘‘That would technically be a two-night bargain.’’
‘‘Fine. Two nights. Whatever.’’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘‘Whoa. Lack of sleep making somebody cranky?’’
‘‘No.’’ He met her gaze. ‘‘It’s not sleep I’m craving.’’
Eileen’s stomach flip-flopped, then did a slow whirl. ‘‘Me neither, big boy,’’ she admitted, then added, ‘‘but before this turns into the Lost Weekend, we’d better have some ground rules.’’
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. ‘‘Rules are good.’’
Eileen chuckled. Now there was a statement on his personality. ‘‘Figured you’d say that.’’
She too went onto her side and lay facing him. Flames danced in the hearth behind him, sending ripples of light around the room and gilding the ends of his hair until he looked almost as if he were wearing a halo.
Rick Hawkins? A halo?
Okay, rules were definitely in order!
Idly he reached out one hand to stroke her breast. Eileen hissed in a breath and let it out again. ‘‘First,’’ she said, a little more loudly than she’d planned, ‘‘no strings.’’
‘‘Agreed,’’ he said, his now-narrowed gaze focused on hers. ‘‘I’m not looking for anything permanent.’’
‘‘Ditto.’’ She caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes and addressed it. ‘‘What? You think every woman you meet is trying to lure you into a bear trap?’’
One dark eyebrow lifted, managing to convey a world of comments.
‘‘You can relax on that score, Mr. Wonderful,’’ she assured him. ‘‘You’re completely safe.’’
‘‘No strings means what, exactly?’’ he prompted, ignoring her last statement.
‘‘I guess it means we enjoy what we have while we have it,’’ Eileen said, and gulped when his talented fingers tweaked her nipple. Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them again and stared directly into his. ‘‘When one of us has had enough, it’s over. Deal?’’
‘‘Deal.’’
‘‘Shouldn’t we shake hands on it?’’
A corner of his mouth tipped up. ‘‘Oh, we can do better than that.’’
The rest of the weekend was a blur.
A good blur, but a blur.
On Sunday afternoon, Eileen walked into her house, left her small, rolling suitcase in the foyer, then dropped onto the worn overstuffed sofa. Its soft down-filled cushions came up around her like a warm hug. Propping her feet up on the mission-style coffee table, she scraped both hands across her face and tried to figure out how she’d work a temporary affair into her world.
God, she hadn’t planned on this. Who would have guessed that Rick Hawkins would be the man who could light up her insides like a Christmas tree? And who would have thought that a two-week favor to her grandmother would turn into…she dropped her hands onto her lap. Turn into what? What exactly had happened? One red-hot weekend?
Because if that’s all it turned out to be, a part of her would be sorry. She didn’t really want to get involved with anybody, but on the other hand, it had been a long time since she’d been with a man. A long time since she’d felt…close, to anyone. And damn it, she’d enjoyed it. Not just the sex, she thought, though she had to admit, Rick had a real gift in that area, but it was more than that. It was laughing with him. Talking to him. It was midnight meals and napping in front of the fire. It was long walks on windswept hills and hearing him try to explain the securities market.
It was a lot of things she hadn’t expected.
She hadn’t felt anything remotely like this since just before she’d broken off her engagement to Robert Bates. Frowning, Eileen grabbed one of the green plaid throw pillows and hugged it to her chest. He’d been her college boyfriend. Pre-med when she met him, they’d made plans for the future. Eileen had planned their wedding, their marriage and even how many kids they’d have—three—two boys and a girl. And then at graduation, Robert had suggested they not get married right away. Instead, he wanted her to go to work. They could live together, he’d said, and she could support him while he finished med school. Then, if the time was right, they’d get married.
Sighing,