Here Comes Trouble Page 0,121

like before. This was…new. And it was hers to decide what to do with, and how she wanted it to be. At least to work for her. She wasn’t surrendering control. She was taking on a new challenge. And damn, but maybe she was up for it after all. Because, the reward, if she pulled if off, was priceless.

When she broke the kiss, she lifted up on her tippy toes to hug him, and he swept her up so they could hug good and proper, everything aligning so perfectly. She kissed the side of his neck and felt his pulse thrumming, which set hers to thrumming, too. “Okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m all in.”

Then she snatched the keys from his unsuspecting grip and wriggled out of his arms. “Come on. Let’s go see what you’ve gotten us into. Last one to the front door is a rotten poker player.” And she took off toward the house.

Chapter 19

Brett throttled down as they rolled through town, then punched it a little as they neared the turn up to the inn. He wanted to get home. Where he was going to make love to Kirby and end the perfect day with the perfect night.

He couldn’t believe it was all going to work out. She’d loved the farmhouse and his design concept for it as much as she had with the log cabin. He’d called and put an offer on the place on their way back into town. What a lucky, lucky bastard he truly was. Hell, Kirby had even admitted she’d gotten used to the bike. Total package. He had the most ridiculous urge to beat his chest and howl at the moon.

They rolled to a stop in front of the house; the sun had sunk enough to cast the front of the house in deep shadows. The air had a distinct bite to it, and Kirby shivered as she let go of him and climbed off the bike.

“Maybe some wine, have the leftovers from last night?” she asked.

He wanted to scoop her up and head to the nearest bed, but pacing, given the rush he was feeling, was probably not a bad thing.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, and meant it. He took her helmet and then slipped his hand in hers as they walked toward the porch. He was thinking about how easily he pictured himself doing just this for a very long time, when she suddenly paused.

“Oh, crap. The quilts and bedspreads, they’re still out back. I need to bring them in.”

“You want some help?”

She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. “Why don’t you go pour the wine and start reheating the food. It won’t take me long.”

Yeah, he thought as he kissed her back. Definitely lifetime material. Better than he’d ever thought possible. “Okay,” he said, his body stirring again as he watched her walk around the outside of the house toward the back of the property. He spent about two seconds contemplating following her around back and getting at least one of those blankets dirty all over again, but it was getting colder by the second. “Dinner. Then play.” He took the steps two at a time, put the helmets on the registration desk, slung his jacket over the newel post at the base of the stairs, and then headed straight for the kitchen.

He was smiling as he entered the room and was thinking that maybe he’d snag one of the blankets and start a fire in the front parlor fireplace, turn dinner into a little fireside picnic, but stopped in his tracks when he spied Kirby through the kitchen window.

She was standing in the backyard, hand over her mouth, looking at what was left of her freshly aired antique quilts and spreads. All of which were in shredded ribbons.

Something went hard and cold inside his chest. He was simultaneously furious at whoever had invaded her property, whoever had destroyed a single thing she’d worked so hard to get…and sick almost to the point of puking over the unavoidable suspicion that crawled right back into his gut.

No. This wasn’t happening. Not again. He thought he was done with that, that he’d left it back in Vegas. That whoever thought this was the right way to get his attention had figured out they were wrong when, instead of caving in, he’d packed up and left town for good.

One face floated through his mind. Maksimov’s smug expression as Brett had turned him down flat, like he’d known something