Chapter Eight
A storm hit viciously that night, a day earlier than the weatherman predicted. As it raged against the windows, Tasha was afraid the panes would break. The wind ripped the plastic tarp off her roof, the crackle of it flying into the night.
Yet, for all its power, the storm had nothing on the one raging inside her in the aftermath of Daniel’s sweet kiss.
The feel of his arms around her in the makeshift kitchen had been powerful enough to make her want to stay there forever, as though she’d finally found a real home after jumping from place to place for so long. Her head on his chest, the spicy man smell of him, the texture of his shirt beneath her fingers, the steady thump-thump of his heart in her ear. She’d felt so safe. So warm. Like one of the puppies beneath his gentle hands as he stroked her back.
She’d wanted him to stay for more than soup—so much more—and it had freaked her out. Thankfully, he’d changed his mind about staying for lunch.
God, she was such a bad liar, especially to herself. She hadn’t been thankful he’d left. She’d felt bereft. And so were the puppies—she swore they’d been pining for him all afternoon and evening.
Where’s the big guy who knows how to scratch us just right? their round eyes seemed to say.
She felt their pain. Daniel not only knew how to rub a puppy’s belly, he also knew how to kiss a woman until she was breathless. The mere imprint of his lips on her forehead told her that.
What wouldn’t she give to feel his mouth against hers…
She had to remind herself that it wasn’t possible. How could a woman with a despicable past—and a desolate future—ever deserve a man like Daniel Spencer?
One of the puppies mewled, and she rushed to the box. The lights had gone out fifteen minutes ago, and she’d lit a hurricane lamp. But she didn’t have enough bowls to catch the leaks that were quickly coming down all around them.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, reaching in to stroke Spanky.
She could only thank God—and Daniel—that they were out of that cave. They would have been soaked, then frozen. They wouldn’t have survived the night.
A fat raindrop plopped through the roof onto Darla’s head, but it seemed she had no strength to shake it off. Tasha had coaxed the puppies to eat twice more and had given them water, but she feared they still had a ways to go toward full recovery after dehydration and near starvation.
She pulled the crate closer to the wood stove to keep them warm, until another leak appeared and she had to move them again. The bedroom was relatively dry, but the stove’s heat hadn’t yet penetrated that room.
Boom! A particularly loud crash of thunder shook the house.
Froggy started to howl—even Tasha shrieked in surprise—and when she picked him up to soothe him, Spanky joined in the melee. “It’s okay, you guys, I’ll keep you safe and warm.”
She had two puppies in her arms when her front door flew open, sheets of rain blowing in to soak the floor. Daniel followed the rain in, stepping into her life and her house just when she needed him most.
Again.
* * *
Free of its ponytail for once, Tasha’s hair flowed down her back, black as midnight in the lamplight, silky, shiny. Beautifully touchable as she sat cross-legged with two puppies in her arms.
Daniel shoved the door closed against the wind and rain. “I knocked, but got worried when no one answered. The wind blew the door right out of my hand when I opened it.”
She nodded, her hair cascading over her shoulders. “I couldn’t hear anything over the thunder.” She bent to kiss a furry head. “But the storm scared the puppies. They keep howling.” She glanced into the crate. “Except Darla. Even through the racket, she’s barely moved. I’m worried about her.” Her fears were written all over her face as she turned from the puppy to him. Her eyes suddenly widened when she took in his drenched-to-the-skin state, his clothing plastered to his chest and thighs. “It couldn’t have been safe for you to walk up here. You’re soaked.”
“I drove the truck.” He surveyed his wet clothing and the puddle he was making on the floor. “This was just getting from the driveway to your door.”
Not that one more puddle seemed to matter, considering all the bowls and pots and pans that littered the floor of her cabin, the plinking of raindrops a counterpoint to wind and thunder. Rainwater pooled in spots where she’d run out of cookware.
“I noticed your tarps blew off,” he said.
The roof had more holes than actual wood. If stars had been out, he’d able to see them right through it. How the heck had she survived the last three wintry months? A beaded raindrop hanging from a beam above chose that moment to drop on her forehead and roll down her nose. He would kill to kiss it off.
“I was going to offer to help you tack them back on,” he continued, “but as bad as this storm is becoming, I’m thinking we should head back to my house. My roof is watertight. The fire’s going. And there’s hot coffee. Good food.” In case she was thinking of turning down his offer, he played his trump card. “The cold and damp can’t be good for the puppies. Especially Darla. You said she’s not doing well.” He didn’t want to pound home any guilt, but no way was he letting Tasha stay in this falling-down wreck when the next big gust of wind might blow it away. “They need to be somewhere warm and dry. And I’ve got it.”
Right then, Darla made a little snuffling sound from deep in the box. That sealed the deal.
“You’re right,” Tasha said. “It would be better for the puppies if we went to your place.”
Victory. It was so sweet.
Even if he sensed it was only temporary.
* * *
Daniel went out of his way to be helpful, driving his truck right up to the porch, toting the puppies’ box out to it, getting drenched all over again in the process while miraculously keeping the box relatively dry. At his house, he helped her bundle up the puppies, carry in their food, then set them up by his big, lovely fireplace. And he was still working, this time getting dinner ready for them. And later, when she slept in his big bed—which he’d insisted she have because he’d obviously been raised a gentleman—she knew she wouldn’t have to be afraid that he’d sneak in while she was sleeping. Daniel wasn’t scum like her ex.
No, the only person she had to worry about stepping over the line was herself. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to make all the bad, all the dark, all the evil go away.
She wanted to lose herself in him and forget everything—and everyone who was hurt because she’d failed to face up to her father’s shortcomings.
But Daniel deserved someone better, someone who was able to see the difference between good and bad. Someone brave enough to right all the wrongs, instead of running away.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked.
“How about cutting up some veggies to grill? I’ve got red peppers and asparagus.”
Thank goodness his outdoor kitchen was covered. The meal he cooked was amazing. Granted, she’d been living on cereal, microwaved soup, baked beans, hot dogs, and scrambled eggs for months. But even if she’d been eating at five-star restaurants every night, Daniel’s food would have been delicious, because he’d cooked it and she was eating with him.
They sat on the floor on thick cushions, leaning against big beanbags. A fire blazed in the stove insert, and he’d set out lanterns to ward off the dark until the electricity came back on. The puppies lay sleeping in their box, so much more comfortable than they’d been in her cold, wet cabin.
She felt exactly the same way—warm, content, and sated. Even unfinished, this house was more a home than anything she’d ever lived in. It was so Daniel—big, open, meant for family to come rambling through.
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” she asked, licking her lips.
“I’m a bachelor,” he said with a laugh, though it seemed a tad hoarse as he watched her mouth. “We all know how to barbecue.”
“But don’t you normally have loads of household staff to do that stuff for you?” There was no point pretending he wasn’t a billionaire.
“I have a cook on standby when I don’t feel like doing it myself and someone to clean house, but I’m just one person. I don’t need a lot.” Then he smiled cheekily. “And my mom insisted I learn how to barbecue because my dad always burns the meat.”
“I’ve said this before, but your family sounds wonderful.” She was determined to be happy for him without feeling sorry for herself.
“Yeah,” he said, though a little frown settled between his eyebrows. With a small shake of his head, he continued, “They’re great. You and my sister, Lyssa, would really like each other. She’s in Chicago where my parents live. Where we all grew up.”
Tasha wanted to know everything about him, even though it was dangerous territory given that the more she knew, the more she liked.
“How did you go from Chicago to all this?” She gestured to his mansion-in-progress.
“I went into contracting right out of high school. College never felt like a great fit for me, and I like to work with my hands. That’s why I enjoy building this place. I missed creating something with my own hands. I missed having calluses.” Setting his plate on the floor beside him, he held out his palms. “It took a while, but I’ve got them again.”
She remembered his deliciously callused touch from when he’d rescued her, and now she felt the urge to kiss each and every mark on his hands. “What happened next?” Her voice sounded as hoarse as his when he’d laughed a few minutes ago.
“I came up with some new tools, got some patents.” He shrugged as though it were a feat anyone might have accomplished. “The money gave me a grub stake. And I moved on from there.”
She marveled—who wouldn’t? “Your parents must be very proud.”
“They’re proud of all of us.”
He was modest, but she could see how much it meant to him to make his mother and father proud. “You did it for them, didn’t you? I get that you wanted to be a success, but all your money, everything you’ve built, it was so that you could give them everything they didn’t have when you were a kid, wasn’t it?”
His eyes held hers for a long moment, as though he was stunned by her insight. “Yes, it was. It is. I’ll never be able to do enough for them. All the Mavericks feel the same way—we wish we could buy them a bigger house, better cars, send them on fancy cruise ships and private jets, give them shopping sprees at the most expensive stores.” He shook his head. “But they don’t want any of that. All they want is time to spend with us and a house that’s big enough to put everyone up for the holidays.”
All the things his parents didn’t want were exactly the things her father had lied, cheated, and stolen to obtain. And instead of being showered with unconditional love as Daniel had been, Tasha and her brother had merely been pawns in her father’s cons. She remembered clearly how he’d trotted them out at business dinners and parties as if to say, Now that you can see what a great dad I am, you know I must be trustworthy.
“Tasha? Are you okay?”
She came back to the concern in Daniel’s handsome face, the warmth in his deep-brown eyes. “I was just thinking about my family.” The words came before she could stop them.
“Did you used to spend a lot of time with them?”
His question was gentle, but far too probing. “We worked together.” She shrugged, trying to bury the topic in nonchalance. “But that’s all in the past now. And we were talking about you. How did you come by your carpentry skills in the first place?”
They were both well aware that she was pivoting away from talking about herself. The only question was whether Daniel would let her get away with turning the spotlight back on him.
“When we were growing up,” he finally said, “nothing ever got fixed in our tenement unless we did it ourselves. So Dad learned how to mend leaky faucets and running toilets and change the thermostat in the oven and put in new floorboards and Sheetrock.”
She was relieved that he’d let her off the hook. Yet there was a part of her that longed to confide in him.
An extremely foolish part that needed to keep its mouth shut.
“He taught you along with the other Mavericks?”
“All five of us definitely know our way around a tool belt. We worked for our keep.” Done with his steak, he stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the beanbag, hands behind his head. “We all enjoyed it too.”
“There’s something really satisfying about completing a job, isn’t there?” She much preferred this safe topic of conversation to the family minefield. “These past months, I’ve had more than a few moments when I’ve been so pleased with the work I’m doing that I just have to stand back and look at it.” She’d often felt the same way while building websites, especially when she figured out a new tool or widget. She didn’t mention her job, though. It would only trigger more questions.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s a great feeling. My dad didn’t just give us the tools to be able to fix things with our own hands—he showed the other tenants how to fix stuff too.” Daniel’s expression softened with the tremendous love he felt for his father, for his whole family. “That’s where the idea for my DIY show came from. I wanted to emulate Dad by teaching people how to do it themselves and save money. And also to give them an inexpensive place to buy the tools and products they need, aided by helpful assistants to answer their questions. At first, we did demonstrations and classes at the stores, but I wanted to reach as many people as possible, so we transitioned into videos.”
It didn’t hurt, she thought, that Daniel was so good to look at on the screen, that he smiled often, that his laugh was a deep bass. But he was so much better in person. Her reactions to him were more visceral—the curl of desire in her belly, the heat of her skin when he was near.
Just as she’d feared, the more she liked him, the harder it was to keep her distance. Especially in the warm firelight and the candles and lanterns he’d set out to keep the dark at bay, where she felt lulled into wanting what she couldn’t have. What she didn’t believe she was worthy of. Not anymore.
“Any video requests?” he asked.
“You have to do a video on installing a hot tub,” she found herself saying. “I’d love to install one off my bedroom so that I can get into it first thing in the morning, straight out of bed.”
“A hot tub? Off your bedroom?” His voice sounded strangled, his gaze sizzling hot and riveted on her lips, as though he wanted to devour them. As if he wanted to consume her.
The only thing that could have broken the spell was a puppy whining for food. Otherwise, Tasha might have dived on him and done all the devouring herself.
“I think that’s Darla,” Tasha said, jumping to her feet and looking into the crate. Sure enough, the little puppy was squawking like a baby bird. “She must be hungry. Which is good, isn’t it? It means she’s feeling stronger, right?” She was babbling because Daniel’s eyes were so intense. As though he could see right through her need to put distance between them. “I’ll make some Puppy Chow for her.” Spanky grumbled and woke up, closely followed by Froggy. Concentrating on them was better than facing the look in Daniel’s eyes, the one that promised to ferret out all her secrets. “We should probably feed the boys too.”
“I’ll help you.” Leaning down to scratch a puppy ear, Daniel was close enough to heat her straight through.
Backing up, she stepped on the edge of her plate, her cutlery rattling to the floor, and she would have tripped if he hadn’t grabbed her.
Just as it had when he’d rescued her from the roof, his touch sent hot need racing through her.
“Why don’t we let the dogs run around a bit while we make up their food?” Her voice sounded as breathless as she felt.
“Actually,” Daniel said, “I should probably take them outside to do some business first.”
Talking about the puppies and their potty training should have squashed all sense of desire. Except it didn’t. Because watching him pick all three up in his big hands made her whole body hum, turning her wild inside and crazy with need.
He was so gentle. And yet so strong.
So gorgeous.
So sexy.
Get a grip, Tasha.
Only, that was her major problem. She wanted a grip. On him. All over him.
And she was actually spending the night here?
She’d survived falling off the roof. But temptation might very well be the death of her.