Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,42

tomorrow. Hate to tell you, but tomorrow’s going to be worse. Meanwhile, think about those Irish Coffees I’m going to buy you. Imagine the first one sitting there on the bar, steam coming out of it. It’s got whipped cream on it. It’s sooo hot, and sooo delicious. Just across this meadow and down the path a ways. Another mile, max.”

“Caffeine,” she said. “Afternoon.”

“Whiskey,” he answered. “Evening. Somehow, I doubt anything’s going to be keeping you awake tonight. Not even me.”

Which could have been flirting, but wasn’t, because he was right. They ate dinner at six, and as soon as she was done, she dragged herself to her feet, flapped a hand at Dyma, and said, “If it’s after ten and you’re not back, I’m hunting you down. I’m making a scene. In my flannel PJ bottoms with deer on them and my comfy slippers. It’ll be embarrassing.”

“Mom.” Dyma sighed. “Owen’s right here. Don’t you think he’s the one who needs this talk?”

“Nope,” Owen said. “I’m all clear on the score. You, though … you could be a handful.”

“Mm,” she answered. “I could be.” And looked at him under her lashes with her dimples showing in a way she sure hadn’t picked up from Jennifer.

Jennifer said, “I’m ignoring that, because I’m seriously almost too tired to care. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll walk you,” Kris said, and he did. All the way to her door, where she held up her key card and said, “Well. This is me.”

“Yeah.” He scratched his jaw and said, “About tomorrow …”

She said, “Oh. You don’t want me—us—to come,” and was surprised at the lurch of disappointment. She felt it in her stomach. “That’s fine,” she hurried on. “It was a crazy plan, buying last-minute plane tickets for even more people. We’ve paid for another night anyway, and Dyma’s loving the skiing. I’ll probably just hang out here at the lodge, honestly. You’re right, I’m going to be too sore for anything else. I’m sure you’ll be fine, now you’ve decided to go. You’re a strong guy.”

He touched a hand gently to her mouth. “Could you just … stop a second?”

“Oh.” Her face was burning again. She needed to get out of here before she had to be embarrassed forever. She’d had a very hot bath and two Irish Coffees, and all of it had gone straight to her head.

“You’re tired,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning. But—no. I’m glad you’re coming.” Then he took a step closer, took her gently by the shoulders, bent down, and touched his mouth to hers. The softest, briefest brush of his lips over hers, but it was like she’d been shocked. She could smell the clean, woodsy scent of him, and she could feel the size of him, too. He kissed her again, taking a little longer this time, and she felt it all the way down her body. Overwhelming. Embarrassing. That was why she stood there, rooted to the ground, even though all she wanted was to put her hands on his shoulders and hold him there so he’d kiss her some more.

He lifted his head before she got up the courage, gave her a rueful smile, and said, “Don’t worry about Dyma. Owen’s a good guy. He might kiss her, because sometimes, a woman’s just too tempting. I can’t swear it won’t happen. But nothing else will.”

14

Still Lying

Harlan looked up at the knock on his door. “Come in,” he called.

It wasn’t going to be Jennifer. He was sure she was fast asleep. Would he like it to have been, though? You bet he would. That kiss had been something. Her mouth was just as perfect as he’d imagined, and she’d drawn in her breath when he’d done it like it felt way too good.

Or maybe not, because she hadn’t done any kissing back.

He was right. It wasn’t her.

“Hey,” Owen said, dropping onto the other bed.

Harlan set down his book, which he’d found in one of the bookshelves in the lobby. “Hey.”

Owen asked, “Good book?”

“Yeah. Unbroken. This book’ll make you feel like you’ve never known tough. Athlete gets his plane shot down in World War II, ends up taken prisoner by the Japanese. I’m going to have to buy a copy so I can read the rest.”

“Motivational for tomorrow, then,” Owen said.

“Yep.” Harlan scrutinized his friend. “So how was that?”

“What, how was sitting around having about four hot ciders with the prettiest little eighteen-year-old I’ve ever seen, because I didn’t want to leave? While she flirted with