Beneath the Mistletoe. Susan CrosbyЧитать онлайн книгу.
power went out just as she closed her eyes again. There wasn’t a warning flicker this time, not even a hard gust of wind. Everything just quietly went dark. Pitch-dark.
Lucy sat up with a gasp. She couldn’t see the doorway into the kitchen now. Without the background noises of the heater and other electric appliances, the house was completely silent. She could hear the wind and ice outside, and occasional sharp cracks that she knew were more tree branches snapping.
She hadn’t heard the branch that had taken down the power lines.
Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to see through the inky blackness. She was growing disoriented, unsure now exactly where the door was. The sounds from outside seemed to grow louder and eerier. Creaks and pops and groans—strange noises in a strange place.
“Hulk?” she whispered, reaching unsteadily for the dog. Even his presence would be comforting now. But he wasn’t there. The shaggy mutt had slipped out as stealthily as he had entered earlier, leaving Lucy alone in the dark.
Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, she remembered the flashlight under her pillow. It must have been panic that had driven it from her mind before, she thought sheepishly, making a dive for it. She felt better immediately when her fingers closed around the metal cylinder. And then she cursed beneath her breath when she fumbled to find the button that would turn it on. She should have figured out how to work it before the lights went out, she chided herself.
A thin beam of light swept over her, settling on her hands. “Twist the top to turn it on,” Banner said from across the room.
Following his instructions, she sighed in relief when her efforts turned the flashlight on. The light hit her full in the eyes, making her squint, but that was okay. As long as she had light, she thought, aiming the flashlight toward Banner’s legs. She didn’t want to blind him, too.
She saw now that his dog stood close beside him. Surely that beast wasn’t afraid of the dark.
“Are you okay?” Banner asked quietly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She wished her voice hadn’t quavered.
He moved a few steps closer to the couch. “You don’t sound fine.”
“No, really, I’m okay. We knew the power would go out.”
“It’s going to get cold in here. You’ll probably want to bring your pillow and blankets and sleep in front of the fire.”
That sounded like a good plan. Fire gave off both heat and light. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She still wore her sweater, jeans and socks, so she didn’t have to worry about modesty. Awkwardly gathering her pillow and blankets while still balancing the flashlight, she took a step toward Banner—and promptly tripped over one of the blankets.
Banner caught her before she could hit the floor. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and she became aware of exactly how strong that slim body of his really was. Woodworking seemed to be very good for building muscles, she thought a bit dreamily.
“You okay?” His deep voice was very close to her ear as he bent his head over her.
If her hands hadn’t been so full, she might have been tempted to let them roam up his chest—to satisfy her curiosity about the definition of the muscles beneath his gray sweatshirt.
Except for his small flashlight, Banner’s hands were free—not moving, just holding her. His face was close to her hair, and he didn’t immediately move away. It looked as though it was going to be up to her to move first—before she did something stupid. Like dropping those blankets and satisfying her overactive curiosity.
She took a step backward. Banner’s hands fell immediately to his side, and he, too, moved to put even more space between them. The dog shuffled out of his way, bumping against Lucy’s hip. She certainly didn’t want to risk stumbling again, which could very likely lead to her ending up back in Banner’s arms.
With a very faint, slightly wistful sigh, she followed carefully as he led her through the kitchen and toward the living room.
Bobby Ray knelt in front of the fire, slowly adding wood. The flickering firelight danced across his broad face, gleaming in his thick hair and beard. “You doing okay, Lucy?” he asked, looking up from his task.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Bobby Ray pushed himself to his feet and adjusted the fireplace screen. “I doubt the power will be back on anytime tonight. It’s going to get cold.”
Lucy glanced toward the two bedrooms. “What about the others?”
“The bedrooms are more heavily insulated than the office, which was an add-on,” Banner said. “There’s a gas fire burning in the master bedroom, so it should stay fairly comfortable in there. Joan and the kids are sharing a bed and a pile of blankets, so I think they’ll be okay.”
Had Banner made the effort to come after Lucy because he thought she would get too cold—or because he knew she didn’t like the dark? Either way, it had been a nice thing for him to do.
Bobby Ray leaned back into the recliner and raised the footrest. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in more comfortably, making the chair frame creak. “Good night, y’all.”
Lucy started to lay her blankets on the floor in front of the fire, but Banner put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Take the couch. I’ll bunk on the floor.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. You go back to the couch.”
“No.” The firelight played across Banner’s mulish expression. “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. The floor’s fine for me.”
His hand was warm on her arm, even through her clothes. She could think of plenty of ways to ward off the cold with Banner—but not in front of Bobby Ray. Her cheeks going hot in response to the unbidden thought, she cleared her throat. “You’ve already made up the couch for yourself. I’ll just—”
A loud sigh erupted from the recliner. “Lucy, will you get on the couch? I’m pretty sure Banner’s more stubborn than you are, and this argument could go on for a while.”
“Sorry, Bobby Ray,” she murmured, and gave in—mostly because she suspected the truck driver was right about who was more stubborn.
A few minutes later Lucy was settled on the couch, and Banner and his dog lay on the floor in front of the fire, Banner in the sleeping bag he’d spread on the couch earlier. Bobby Ray snored rhythmically in the recliner, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the room got quiet again.
Even though Banner had taken the pillow he’d used before, Lucy was still too aware that he had recently been on the same couch where she now lay. It was silly, of course, for her to feel as though she could still detect the heat from his body radiating from the thick cushions.
Something about Banner sent her sadly neglected libido into spasms. She didn’t know if it was the way he looked—or the way he looked at her. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality that drew her. But there were other things about him: his awkward attempts at hospitality, his low-key and decidedly offbeat sense of humor, his skill in the kitchen…
She couldn’t help wondering about his skill in other rooms.
An exasperated sigh escaped her as she hid her face in the pillow in an attempt to smother that thought.
Banner lifted his head to look her way. “Lucy? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes closed and ordering herself to go to sleep.
Maybe all that ice had given her a case of brain-freeze, she thought. She was quite sure she would have herself completely under control again by morning.
After a restless night Lucy woke early, the tantalizing scent of coffee tickling her nostrils. The fire still crackled steadily, providing