The Winner Takes It All. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
decor was comfortable and inviting. The kitchen was small but functional, with stainless-steel appliances and a tiled island with a breakfast bar. The bar stools matched the pine table and six chairs in the dining room that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Nice place.”
A river-rock fireplace with a wood mantel on the far wall drew her attention. She imagined a crackling fire would be nice when the temperature dropped. A large television was tucked into the space above the fireplace. A three-cushion, overstuffed leather couch was positioned in front of the fireplace/TV to the left. The perfect place to relax after a long day. Log-pole coffee- and end tables, as well as photographs and artwork, added a touch of the outdoors to the rustic yet welcoming decor. “You got new furniture.”
He closed the door behind him. “I rented this place furnished.”
“Did you put your stuff in storage?”
“I sold it.”
She glanced around. Nothing looked familiar. “Everything?”
“Most of it was castoffs from friends and family anyway. No sense dragging all that old stuff here with me.”
Sarah ignored a flash of hurt. She’d given him a framed photograph from Red Rocks on their first wedding anniversary. And then she remembered. “A fresh start.”
“Yes.”
“Nice cabin.” Much nicer than any place she’d ever lived, including the apartment they’d shared. “I can see why you signed a year lease.”
“I’m comfortable here.”
If she’d ever wondered if Cullen needed her, Sarah had her answer today. He didn’t need her. He had a nice place to live, friends and a good job. His life was complete without her.
Too bad she couldn’t say the same thing about her life without him.
“SOMETHING SMELLS GOOD.”
The sound of Sarah’s voice sent a thunderbolt of awareness through Cullen, jolting him back to reality. For the past two hours he’d relished the solitude of the cabin, pretending she wasn’t asleep in the guest bedroom. He placed the hot pad on the counter, then turned away from the stove. “Dinner.”
She stood where the hallway ended and the living room began with bare feet, tangled hair, looking sleep-rumpled sexy. A half smile formed on her lips. “I didn’t expect to wake up to dinner cooking.”
He glimpsed ivory skin where the hem of her T-shirt rode up over her waistband. The top button on her jeans was undone, making him think of her shimmying out of them.
Appealing idea, yes. Appropriate, no.
Cullen focused on her face. Still a bit roughed-up after the accident, but pretty nonetheless. “You took a long nap.”
“The bed makes the mattress back at the hospital seem like a slab of granite. I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.”
She’d tended toward the devilish in the past, making it difficult to imagine her as an angel now. “I told you this place would be better than a SNF.”
“Yes, you did.”
Having her around wasn’t turning out to be the best thing for him, though. His gaze strayed to the enticing band of bare skin. The hint of flesh tantalized, reminding him of what had been kept from him. And would never be his again.
He jammed a spoon into the pot of refried beans and stirred.
“I’m glad I listened,” she said.
He realized she was wearing the same clothes as earlier. “You can’t be comfortable in those jeans. Put on pajamas or sweats.”
Shrugging her left shoulder, she studied a photograph of Illumination Rock hanging on the wall.
His stomach dropped. “You can’t undress yourself.”
Damn. The thought of helping her had never crossed his mind. He’d been thinking about his needs, not hers.
“I probably could if I tried. Natalie told me to leave the button on my jeans undone,” Sarah said. “But I didn’t think about changing when we arrived. I hit the mattress and was out.”
Cullen felt like a jerk. He should have checked on her more carefully. But he hadn’t wanted to get too close after the drive.
Good work, Dr. Gray.
The sound of Blaine’s voice mocking Cullen, blaming him with a growing list of transgressions, was almost too much for him to take. He lowered the temperature on the beans, then checked the Spanish rice.
He should have done more for Sarah. But he’d needed a break. He might be a physician, but he was still a man. One who hadn’t kissed or touched a woman in almost a year. In spite of their marriage falling apart and the hard feelings that brought with it, undressing Sarah would have meant his needing a cold shower.
Cullen would have to get past that. He was responsible for her well-being. “I’ll help you after…”
Sarah’s face paled.
His stomach roiled. What the—
She swayed unsteadily.
Adrenaline surged. Cullen ran.
She slumped against the wall.
He wrapped his arms around her before she crumpled to the ground like a house of cards. “I’ve got you.”
Her warmth, softness and smell were like sweet ambrosia. His groin tightened. He recalled parts of the anatomy…in Latin.
“Thanks.” Her breath caressed his neck, sending pleasurable sensations through him. “I was dizzy. I must have gotten out of bed too fast.”
He would gladly take her back to bed. And join her.
Bad idea. “You’ve had a long day. It’s been a while since you ate.”
“The milk shake—”
“Food.”
She straightened. “I feel better now.”
“Good, but let’s not take any chances.” He swept her up into his arms, ignoring her sharp inhalation and how good it felt to hold her. “I don’t want you to fall.”
As if concern explained the acceleration of his pulse or his breathlessness.
Wariness clouded her eyes. “I don’t want you to strain your back.”
“Thanks for the concern, but you hardly weigh anything.” Sarah had always been fit, but never this thin. He carried her to the couch. “We’ll have to put some meat on you.”
Sarah’s gaze narrowed. “That’s not what a woman wants to hear.”
As he walked, her breasts jiggled.
Desire slammed into him, hard and fast like a line drive to third base. A fire ignited low in his gut.
Forget the Latin. Organic chemistry equations might work better. “Men like women with curves. Gives them something to hold on to.”
Awareness flickered in her eyes. Sarah parted her lips.
All he had to do was lower his mouth to hers and…
“Some men,” she said.
If he’d had a thermometer under his tongue, the mercury would have shot out the end and made a real mess. “This man.”
Tension sizzled in the air. The physical chemistry between them remained strong, and, if the past sixty seconds were anything to go by, highly combustible.
Fighting