Coming Home (9 page)

It was fierce mating. Each time his body slammed into hers, the fire between them burned higher, hotter, until there was nothing left but a raging conflagration that sent them hurtling to an explosive climax. Roxanne stiffened as the first wave took her, the pleasure so intense, so powerful, she bit his lip to keep from screaming.

Feeling her body clenching and unclenching around him, the bite of her teeth on his lip, he muttered something, tried desperately to prolong the moment, but lost the sweet battle. Driving urgently into her, he found release, groaning as ecstasy thundered through him.

Roxanne was half slumped on the counter, Jeb lying partially on her. He was lodged between her legs, his mouth buried where her neck and shoulder joined. He didn't think he could move…didn't think he
wanted
to move.

A minute passed, maybe two. Reality trickled back. What they had just done hit them both simultaneously. As if jabbed with an electric prod they sprang apart, identical expressions of horror on their faces.

Appalled, Jeb stared at Roxanne's face, knowing his own face wore the same stunned, horrified look that was on hers. Gingerly, he took another step away from her. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, unable to quitebelieve what had happened. He
never
did this sort of thing—not even when he'd been a hormone-driven teenager. He must have gone crazy. Maybe he'd suffered a stroke. A blackout.
Something
to explain his actions. “Look,” he began helplessly, “I never meant…” He swallowed. “I don't…” He looked down at his jeans halfway around his knees and with a muttered curse dragged them up, stuffing himself inside and zipping them closed. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ!” he said again, still stunned and thrown off balance by what had happened.

Equally as thrown as Jeb, Roxanne blinked at him. My God! Had they just done what she'd thought they'd done? She glanced down at her half-naked body sprawled on the countertop. Omigod! Omigod! They had.

She jerked upright, dragging her cropped top down over her breasts. Her panties and jeans dangled from one ankle and slipping down from the counter, she grabbed them and, hopping around, forced her opposite foot into the other leg of her clothing. She couldn't look at him, shame and horror roiling through her. Her face was burning, her heart thumping. She must have gone crazy. Crazy as a loon. Lost her mind. Had to have. How else to explain the inexplicable?

Jeb took a deep breath. “Look,” he began again. “I don't know what just happened, but I want you to know that I don't go around jumping every available female.” So far so good, but then he had to go and put his foot in his mouth. “You may be used to this sort of thing,” he muttered, “but I'm not.”

Her lips tightened and she shot him an unfriendly look. “I'm not,” she said in icy tones, “the slut you seem to think I am. Contrary to the press, I don't usually have sex on my kitchen countertop with a man I don't like.”

“Only with those you like?” he drawled, unable to help himself, his eyes cold and disbelieving.

Rage choked her. “Get out of my house, you big ape! Go on—get. And don't you dare come back.”

Knowing that he was as much, maybe more, to blame as she was for what had happened—he
had
made the first move—he mumbled, “I shouldn't have said that—it was uncalled for.”

“You can say that again!”

Growing a little angry himself, he glared at her. “Look, I'm trying to apologize here—you might be more receptive.”
“Apologize?” she asked in a dangerous tone, her eyes narrowing. “For what? And I'd be very careful what I said if I were you.”

He look puzzled, then shrugged. “What I'm trying to say is that what happened between us was …” He swallowed, memory of the explosive pleasure they had shared flooding his mind. What had happened had been incredible—the greatest sex he'd ever had in his life. To his great dismay, he instantly grew hard. “Look,” he said quickly, his one thought to get awaybefore he made a complete fool of himself, “About what happened, I'm sor—”

She slapped him. Hard. “Don't you
dare
apologize for what we did,” she snapped, furious and humiliated, her great golden eyes full of fire. “It happened—get over it. And while you're at it—get out of my house.”

The sound of a vehicle coming up the road startled both of them.

The argument forgotten, an expression of consternation filled Roxanne's face. The scent of sex was still faintly wafting in the air and she was aware of the damp trickle between her legs. Confident that anyone coming within three feet of her would know precisely what she had been doing very recently, Roxanne exclaimed, “Oh, God! It's Tindale. I can't meet him like this.” She threw Jeb a harassed look. “Just leave.” And having said that, she sprinted across the room, grabbed her overnight case, and disappeared into the bathroom. A second later, he heard the shower come on.

Who the hell, he wondered, was Tindale? Think he'd stay and find out. He snapped his shirt, shoved it into his jeans, and quickly put himself to rights. Running a hand through his mussed hair, he finger-combed it and hoped that Tindale would think that he normally wore the tousled look. He glanced around, and spotting a bottle of Pine-Sol near the sink, he dumped some of it in the sink and turned on the water. The heavy scent of pine oil filled the air and covered whatever aroma remained of their lovemaking.

Pleased by his quick thinking, Jeb smiled. Yeah. He could really think on his feet, couldn't he? He looked down at his fly. And with his pecker, it seemed. He sighed heavily, wondering what in the hell had just happened between them—not only the sex, but the slap. What had he said to make her so angry? He'd only been trying to apologize. Women.

He heard the vehicle pull up and park, and a couple minutes later there was a rap on the door. Still puzzling over the situation, he walked to the door and opened it.

A man, a six-footer with a friendly face, stood there, briefcase in hand. Jeb didn't recognize him, figured him from out of town. The guy looked about forty and he didn't wear a hat, his thick wavy blond hair glinting in the sunlight. He was dressed in knife-creased blue jeans, shined shoes, and a maroon shirt with a buttoned-down collar and a dark blue maroon striped tie.

“Come on in,” Jeb said, for no obvious reason other than he was standing on Roxanne's doorstep, disliking the man on sight. “Roxanne's in the shower.” He smiled, not a very friendly smile, just a faint baring of the teeth that could have been mistaken for a snarl. “We had some excitement around here this morning—a neighbor's cow with a newborn calf showed up. Took all of us a while to get the pair loaded up and on their way home.” He stuck out his hand. “I'm Jeb Delaney. You're Tindale, right? Roxanne mentioned that you'd be arriving.”

If Tindale got the impression that Jeb was very much at home in Roxanne's cabin and very familiar, quite friendly in fact, with Roxanne, it wasn't from lack of trying on Jeb's part. Precisely why he was creating this impression escaped him. And hey! He hadn't said anything that wasn't true, he thought virtuously.

The two men shook hands, Jeb resisting the urge to let Tindale know just how strong he was.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Sam Tindale—Roxy's architect,” he said with an amiable smile. Showing that he was equally at home in Roxanne's cabin, Tin-dale walked over to the kitchen countertop and laid down his briefcase. Opening it, Tindale took out what were obviously architectural drawings. Glancing back at Jeb, he said lightly, “Like they say, the paperwork is never done. Construction's supposed to start on Monday and Roxy wants one last look at the plans.”

“That so?” Jeb replied, bristling at the other man's diminutive use of Roxanne's name. Where did this guy get off calling her “Roxy"? Only family and close friends called her Roxy.

The lady herself appeared just then, looking fresh and downright tasty, Jeb thought, as she came rushing out of the bathroom. Seeing Tindale at the counter, she smiled and said, “Oh, Sam, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. It's been a busy morning and time just got away from me.”

“Yeah, that's what I told him,” Jeb drawled, bringing himself to her attention.

She hadn't noticed him standing over by the doorway and at the sight and sound of him, she sucked in her breath, her smile slipping just a little. “Oh, ah, Jeb. I didn't realize you were still here.” Her eyes angry, she said, “Didn't you say that you had an appointment in town?” Through gritted teeth she added, “An appointment that you're going to be late for?”

“Are you sure?” he asked, all innocent. “Jeez, I don't remember any appointment…you must be mistaken. Besides,” he continued with a wide smile, “I'd really like to see all the changes you and Sam have planned for the place.”

If Tindale was aware of any undercurrent, he pretended otherwise. “Come on over,” he said, “and I'll give you the nickel paper tour.”

Ignoring the glare Roxanne flashed him, Jeb strolled over and stood beside Tindale at the counter, staring at the sheets of oversized paper that were spread out on the counter. The counter, Jeb thought with a wicked grin, where he and Roxanne had just had the most mind-blowing sex he'd ever had in his life. He glanced at her. Wonder if it had affected her the same way? Her eyes were stormy when they met his and from the set of her jaw, he figured right now that the only emotion she felt was pure fury. Ah well. Served her right. She'd sent him away with a burr up his butt more than once. Turnabout was only fair play.

Jeb's gaze dropped and he whistled at the rendition of the finished house. “Pretty nice,” he commented to Roxanne with a raised brow.

“I think so,” she muttered, wondering what in the hell he thought he was accomplishing. Why didn't he just leave? Over Tindale's bent head, she mouthed, “Go away.”

Jeb just smiled and turned to study the plans, his fmgers absently tracing the outlines of the changes.

The plans Roxanne had for the property were indeed “pretty nice.” He only half noted the new well house, woodshed, and barn and corrals that would be added at some point. It was the house that riveted his attention. It was, he thought, quite appealing—big, but not huge, nothing pretentious about it. It was stylish and yet there was something very homey, very, he found himself admitting, inviting about it. And he admitted that the whole thing looked like it belonged right where it was.

The original A-frame had been doubled in size and a miniature A-frame now jutted out from the front of the enlarged structure—he assumed it was an entry hall. Two wings with a hipped roof had been added on either side of the expanded building and attached at the end of each new wing was a smaller A-frame, giving the whole house the appearance of an Alpine lodge. The roof was dark green metal with some skylights and there was a series of decks at the back and slate terraces, edged with raised flowerbeds, at the front. A rock-edged slate walkway led from the enlarged parking area; a new three-car garage with the same dark green hipped roof as the wings lay just beyond the parking area, with a long covered breezeway leading to the northernmost A-frame.

He glanced at Roxanne, his finger stopping at the breezeway. “Back door?”

Perplexed at his interest, she nodded. “Yes. The breezeway is also the mudroom.” When he continued to stare at her, she added, “From there you enter the laundry area—there's also a half bath and small pantry in that area—a short hall leads to the kitchen.”

“And beyond that,” Tindale joined in, “will be the dining room, which will be open to what was the original part of the A-frame and the new section—the great room. There'll be a rock-faced fireplace in one corner and floor-to-ceiling windows that give a fabulous view of the valley. Roxy wants the upper floor in the old part torn out—so there'll be open-beamed ceilings in that area.” He made a face. “I wanted the open-beamed ceilings throughout the great room, but Roxy said no. The front half, the new part, will have a second floor with a couple of rooms and a bath. It's going to be quite a project—and we want to get it up and closed in before the rains start.”

From beneath lowered lashes, Roxanne considered Jeb. What was he doing? Why the hell didn't he just leave? Her mouth tightened. He was probably just hanging around to annoy her. Except, she realized, that she wasn't exactly annoyed. She didn't know what she thought—especially about what had happened between them. She wasn't a prude, but she'd never made love on a countertop before…nor, she admitted with a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, had she ever experienced such a world-shaking climax before in her life. She was thrown off balance, utterly baffled by what they had done. It just wasn't her style to fall into bed with any man that came along, and yet Jeb. She swallowed, her gaze dropping to his strong, tanned hands as they rested on the architectural drawings. All he had to do was touch me, she thought unhappily, and I went up in flames. And I don't, she reminded herself grimly, even like the son of a bitch. Angry with him, as well as herself, Roxanne glared at Jeb's down-bent head. Why didn't he have the decency to leave? Mentally, she slapped her forehead. This was Jeb Delaney she was thinking about—what else could she expect from a cretin like him?

Tindale's voice interrupted her thoughts. “We're hoping,” Tindale said, “for six weeks to two months of decent weather.”

Jeb nodded, his eyes still on the plan before him. “Rain usually doesn't start heavy until the middle of November, although we can get some fairly good storms before then.”

“We're counting on that,” Tindale said. He glanced at Roxanne and smiled. “And since Roxy wants it done at the speed of light, I've hired a good-sized construction crew—we're going to move as fast as we can.” He sighed. “And as fast as the planning department will allow us.”

“What's in the other wing and the A-frame at the end?” Jeb asked, glancing at Roxanne.

Roxanne shot him a dirty look, her expression saying plainly, What's it to you, buster? Aloud she mut tered, “It'll be a suite—sitting room, bedroom, and bath for guests and a wide hallway that leads to the A-frame and my bedroom and bath.”

“Pretty fancy,” he said. “I like the open plan and the use of the space.” He smiled guilelessly at her. “I'll sure look forward to the housewarming.”