4
Lisa
Blinking hard, I opened my eyes and tried to get my bearings. I felt disoriented and confused at first. I was lying on my side, on a couch, and in front of me, there was a huge roaring fire in a big stone fireplace. A real fire, too, with real logs that popped and hissed. I looked around. The room was vast, two stories high at least, with built-in bookcases lining the walls and thick Oriental carpets on the floor. Outside the windows on either side of the fireplace, the storm still raged, and snowdrifts were a quarter of the way up the big panes. But I was warm and calm and peaceful. And in addition to the comforting woodsy smell of the fire, there was something that smelled like…a man. Soap, or cologne. Or both.
That was when I realized I wasn’t alone. There was someone on the couch with me. I turned my head to get a look and caught sight of a strong, manly sideburn. Full, sexy lips. Startled, I turned back to face the fire. I realized it had to be the man who answered the door—I had vague, blurry memories of a bare chest and a pair of flannel pajama pants—but I was so delirious by the time I got here, I hardly remembered that at all. It was just a fuzzy, dreamlike streak. I remembered only the utter, overpowering relief that someone, anyone, answered when I knocked. I must have fainted, and now here I was.
He was holding me very close, his body right against mine, spooning me. He was huge and warm and, judging from his regular breathing, the comforting and strong breaths, absolutely sound asleep. In a heap on the floor, I saw my parka and my clothes. My boots. And, oh God, my bra.
For just one instant, I felt a rush of panic. But then I made myself think it through. After I fainted—first time ever!—he must have… I went through the paces. Unpeeled my leggings from my legs, unzipped my sweatshirt, taken off my tank top. Lord. But I knew why he’d done it—to get me out of my cold, wet clothes. I looked down at my chest to see what I was wearing. One, no, two hoodies. But my arms were against my bare body. I wiggled my toes and felt that I was wearing socks, but they were much too big for me. And I also felt an unfamiliar waistband high on my stomach. I worked one of my legs free from the comforter and saw the bottom hem of a pair of men’s pajama pants.
Oh.
Ever so slowly, I tried to sit up, but he had me in a bear hug, and I couldn’t shift him. His arms were massive, and the hand pressed to my chest was attached to a huge, muscular forearm.
Gosh.
His left arm was underneath my head, and I was nestled down against it, the crook of my neck on his bicep. His left hand was hanging off the couch, relaxed and open. With no wedding ring. I let myself be vaguely conscious of the feel of his hips against mine, and what might be his… I shimmied my tush just half an inch. Yes. Midnight wood.
Lordy.
All of which together meant I wasn’t just warm now. I was actually really hot. He was like a furnace behind me, and then there was the fire warming me from the front. I tried to wriggle free, but as I did, I shifted his arm just enough to wake him up. He inhaled hard and fast, like he was startled. “Holy shit,” he said. “You’re awake.”
I found my eyes sort of flitting upward, to the huge darkly stained wooden beams that ran in parallel lines across the ceiling, like maybe I could get some guidance on this from above. What kind of conversation was I going to start with this man, this stranger who was spooning me in the middle of the night? Hello, thank you for saving me. Thank you for taking off my clothes. By the way, my name is Lisa. And you’re super-duper sexy. “Yes, hi.”
As he shifted, my head rolled off his arm, and he let me go free, moving his hand away from where he’d been gripping me so tightly, even as he slept. I slipped my legs out from under the comforter and sat up. And then I turned to face him.
He was perfect.
He got up on one elbow, with the light of the fire sending golden rays onto his Adam’s apple, and his stubble, and his absolutely beautiful face. Thick, dark brown hair, cut close on the sides and longer on top. He was friendly in the eyes, with long eyelashes and heavy eyebrows. And he was studying me so carefully, so caringly, that a quick blush flooded my cheeks. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Oh yes, I’m…just…” I began trying to stick my arms through the sleeves of the hoodies I was wrapped in, because I honestly just didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think anybody in my life had ever looked at me with so much worry or so much tenderness—and certainly never a perfect stranger. It knocked all my small talk right out of my head, and I was left with a rather unfortunate unfiltered honesty: “… I’m just really hot.”
Good work, Lisa. Top marks.
But he wasn’t bothered and looked absolutely relieved. “Well, thank God for that,” he said, sitting beside me, his huge thigh pressing against the side of my comparatively much smaller one. I noticed our pants were sort of matchy-matchy, like two versions of the same plaid. I was definitely wearing his clothes. Not his girlfriend’s or his sister’s or—God forbid—his out-of-town wife’s. Nope. These were his pants I was swimming in. They were so huge that my feet disappeared under the bottoms. I lifted up my big toe and snagged the hem, pulling it tight because the other side was pinned under my heel. He reached across me and unzipped the top hoodie, slipping it from my shoulders.
He closed his eyes. “I won’t look,” he said, smiling a little and unzipping the next hoodie just enough for me to let it slip down off my shoulders and find the sleeves with my hands.
“I think it’s a bit late for that,” I said, with a laugh sneaking up on me.
“Desperate times,” he said, clearly trying to keep down a laugh himself. He was a gentleman about it, though. He didn’t look, not until I’d gotten myself zipped back up, now with both my arms fully operational.
He reached across me and switched on a lamp. “I’m Dave,” he said, extending a huge hand to shake mine.
There was something so sweet about it. My clothes in a heap on the floor, me in his PJs, and him introducing himself like we were meeting for the first time on a blind date, and not at all like he’d just saved my life by undressing me. I extended my hand, too. His palm was warm, his fingers girthy, his whole presence very…swoony. “I’m Lisa.”
“It’s really good to meet you. And I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
Oh my God. My kind of man. Saved my life and his first thought was of…snacks? “Starving.” I smiled at him, almost overwhelmed with gratitude. “And thank you for helping me. Really. I’m sorry that I woke you up.”
He clicked his tongue and put a firm hand on my thigh. And then winked! Actually winked! “I’m glad you woke me up, and I’m so fucking relieved you’re all right.”