Page 32 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Mary glanced to the clock on the nightstand. It was a few minutes after seven o’clock the next morning. She’d fallen asleep not long after she left Nash and slept fitfully through the night, his face weaving in and out of her dreams. But no longer could she stay in bed.

Rising, she took one look at herself in the mirror and groaned. Remnants of last night’s makeup still clung to her lips and her lashes. Her hair was mussed, having long fallen out of its clip. The only thing good about her looks were Suzie’s silk pajamas she had borrowed for the weekend.

Coffee. She needed some to get her juices going. There were no other guests at the inn so she doubted Suzie and Brad would be up so early after their long night. She’d heard them come in sometime after midnight and knew their son Petey was spending the night with his grandparents. Perhaps she would go ahead and brew a pot of Suzie’s special cinnamon blend and it would be ready for them when they woke.

And all the better for her, too.

She needed something to perk her up.

Padding down the hallway and the stairs, she made her way into the kitchen. Stumbling to the coffee maker, she located the canister of coffee and the filters. Yawning, the back of her hand against her mouth, she reached for the carafe and lifted it from the coffeemaker to fill with cold water.

Felt like she was moving in slow motion.

She watched the water bubble and splash inside the carafe, her gaze focused on the level. She almost overfilled it but shut the water off in time.

“Get a grip, Mary,”

she whispered to herself.

“And get the caffeine going.”

She went through all the motions—scooped the coffee into the filter, filled the coffee maker, plugged it in and turned it on—then heaved a huge sigh as she turned and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Perhaps intravenous injection would be quicker.”

Mary gasped and lifted her head to the sound of the voice. Nash.

“Oh crap. How long have you been sitting there?”

Nash sat at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and a lazy smile on his face.

“Long enough to know that you are pretty darned cute when you come stumbling into the kitchen in the morning.”

Heat rose to her cheeks and her tongue froze. She gulped as he stood, set the mug on the counter, and strolled toward her.

Tall. Man, was he tall. He towered over her as he stopped straight in front of her.

“So, what are you doing today?”

Huh? “Me?”

He chuckled.

“Yes, you, silly. Do you have plans for the day?”

He reached for a tendril of her hair, wound it around his finger, and tugged. Involuntarily, she moved closer to him.

“Day? Plans?”

Her head did a slow shake.

“No plans.”

He leaned in and whispered. “Good.”

Oh my God. Too close. Too close!

“Don’t you have a concert today?”

He nodded.

“Tonight. Hours to fill before then.”

Mary drew her lip between her teeth. His gaze penetrated hers. Damn. She could feel that gaze to her toes.

“Mary?”

“Yes, Nash?”

He ticked his head to the side.

“How impulsive are you?”

She gulped.

“Impulsive? Me? Not usually, but maybe I could…”

“Don’t think, Mary.”

He tugged that strand of hair again and his breath wafted over her cheeks.

She looked up, searched his eyes.

“I am so not thinking,”

she whispered.

“So, let’s get out of here,”

he returned.

“Now?”

He positioned himself even closer, the flat plane of his chest aligned with hers. His lips, firm and hot, brushed against her mouth. Mary tilted her chin to allow him better access. Oh God, an almost kiss…

“Yes. You. Me. I need a break. Let’s get out of here.”

Mary leaned back and studied him. For a minute, she stared, and he gave back just as much. A ripple of pleasure raced across her chest and settled in her abdomen.

I shouldn’t. I’m engaged. Sort of.

But... But this was Nash Rhodes, and would she ever forgive herself if she didn’t, at least, see what might happen between the two of them?

“Okay,”

she whispered.

“I’ll go change.”

And I’m breaking off the engagement as soon as I can get to my phone.

He smiled and tugged at the tendril again.

“Don’t touch your hair or your makeup. I like you mussed up just the way you are.”

She allowed herself to grin back, tamping down the butterflies having a reunion in her belly, and slipped away from him.

She ran straight into Brad at the door.

“Oh! Sorry!”

She watched him double take from her to Nash, and then said.

“I thought I smelled coffee.”

He nodded toward Nash, then back to Mary.

“Where are you running off to?”

Startled, she didn’t quite know what to say. She had no clue where they were going.

“Um. Out.”

Nash chuckled as she dashed for the stairs.

****

Twenty minutes later Nash was between her thighs.

Pressed up against him, her legs spread and her quads clenching his hips, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. The rumbling Harley engine beneath them caused her to flush in embarrassment. Her panties, she was certain, were dripping wet. Her breasts taut, her nipples hard, she hugged close to Nash’s back. Her arms wrapped firmly around his waist; she splayed her fingers over all six of his six-pack ab muscles.

She felt wild, free, and incredibly happy. This day, for however long it lasted, was all about her and Nash. Today, she was going to separate herself from her normal life, break out of her shell, and enjoy. Suddenly, she was thankful she’d left her cell phone back on the nightstand at Suzie’s house. This was a day for no interruptions.

She’d never been so surprised in all her life when Nash led her outside, mounted the motorcycle, handed her a helmet, and told her to get on behind him. It was Brad’s bike, she’d learned, and he had lent it to Nash for the day, as long as he promised to be back in time for the concert.

Lord help her, she didn’t want to be responsible for Nash not showing up at the concert! But what could she do? When Nash Rhodes was around, he was the one in control. And she was like putty in his hands…

Oh dear. She wanted to be putty in Nash’s hands! Funny how she never wanted to be putty in Barry’s hands.

She followed his direction, scooted up close against him; he reached for her hands and placed them on his stomach. For a moment, he left his big hand there, softly caressing hers, and smiled slyly at her in the handlebar mirror.

“Hold on,”

he mouthed and gunned the engine. They sped out the drive and onto Lake Road, climbing into the mountain in no time. Soon, she relaxed and learned to lean into the curves with him and the bike and felt, almost, as if they were one thing.

It was a good feeling.

They wove through the mountains. Still early, the entire day stretched in front of them. The concert wasn’t until eight o’clock that evening. How would they fill the time until then?

In a way, the silence was comforting. Now and again, they would steal a glance at each other and meet eyes in the mirror. Riding behind him allowed her to feel they were getting to know each other, even though they weren’t saying a word. It was comfortable and soon she relaxed and hugged him tighter from behind. Occasionally, he lifted his hand to clasp it over hers at his waist or lay it lazily on her knee. Every time, it gave her a thrill that traveled the length of her body and ended with a tingle in her toes.

She enjoyed this too much.

Staying off the beaten path, they traveled the smaller mountain roads and wound around toward the small town of Dalton Springs. Mary had traveled these roads a thousand times, but today she saw everything with a fresh eye and with every nerve ending on edge.

They slowed through the mountain village and made their way to the opposite side of town where Nash pulled over into the parking lot of a greasy spoon restaurant and killed the Harley’s engine. It was still early in the morning, shadows played peek-a-book with the mountains, the sun not quite up yet. Dawn was a fickle thing in the mountains until the sun was fully up.

The parking lot held a few cars. Seemed only a few people had ventured out to the restaurant this morning for breakfast.

Once the bike quieted, they eased off and stretched the kinks out of their stiff muscles. Nash didn’t waste any time. Standing in front of her, he reached for the helmet strap at her chin. Looking into her eyes, he unhurriedly released the strap, removed her helmet, and set it on the bike seat. Next, he took off his own. Stepping closer, he raked his fingers through her hair to get rid of some of the tangles. She had clasped her hair with a clip at her neck but had long lost it. Her hair had whipped in the wind ever since.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Sorta,”

she replied.

“I could eat.”

“At the very least, I need coffee.”

Nodding, she agreed.

“Yes. I seem to have bypassed mine.”

His finger combing her hair was as sensual as hell. His gaze moved to his hands and she continued to watch his eyes.

“I love the color of your hair,” he said.

Should she tell him it was shade number 11A and she bought it yesterday at Ralph’s? No.

“Thank you,”

she whispered.

He smiled and lowered his hands. With fingertips, he tipped her face up to him.

“I know we don’t really know each other, Mary, but I really want to kiss you.”

The thought of Nash Rhodes kissing her thrilled her tremendously. Ever since he’d brushed his hot lips across hers that morning she was melting, waiting for another taste. Maybe she tipped her head in a nod, she wasn’t sure. Maybe her knees buckled a bit. Not sure about that, either. All she was certain of was that her brain was doing a little spin and every cell in her body screamed for contact.

Lips. Bodies. And he smelled wonderful.

“Mary?”

You klutz. Answer him! “Please.”

Nash didn’t wait another second. He cradled her face in his hands and brought her closer, the length of her body pressed snug against his. When his lips descended, and her eyes closed, nothing but the heat sparking in the sensitive nerve endings around her mouth existed in Mary’s immediate world.

Nothing, but the two of them.

He dragged his lips over hers. She tasted the salt of his skin and felt the stubble of his beard prick against her mouth. An urgency swelled in her chest and the only way she knew she could quell it was to get closer to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss. Their lips taunted and played, tempted and teased.

Nash broke away with a gasp. “Damn,”

he swore on a low breath.

“Good Lord, woman, you can kiss.”

He stared with an intensity Mary wasn’t sure she could handle. She opened her mouth to speak, but he hauled her up against him again and took her mouth one more time. This time, the kiss was a sultry, lingering play of lips, both sucking and exploring, their hands wandering. She was lost and they were the only two people in the world.

“Hey, get a room!”

“Why shit! It’s Nash Rhodes!”

“Oh my God, it is!”

A woman squealed. A camera flashed. Mary jerked out of her perfect world.

“Sonofabitch!”

Nash grabbed the helmets and thrust hers toward her, then donned his own. “Get on!”

he told her, ticking his head toward the bike.

He straddled the Harley and started the engine. Mary strapped on the helmet, dodged another barrage of camera flashes, and hoisted her leg over the bike. She clamped her arms around his abdomen.

“Hang on,”

he ordered. They rumbled out of the parking lot, people shouting and cameras flashing.