Page 7 of Saving Her Curves

Pushing away the urge to clam up like he usually did when asked about his past, he said, “I mustered out of the military with no place to go. One of my buddies was from here. He’s a fireman now. He told me about an opening with search and rescue, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Hank picked up the bowls and walked to the sink.

Skye wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never found herself in this type of situation. Alone for the night with a man. A handsome, sexy man who made her feel things she’d never felt before. Not even on a date. Most of those ended at her front door.

“Can I help?” She jumped down from the stool and made her way to his side.

“Sure, I’ll wash and you can dry.” He put the bowls into the sink to soak while he emptied the crock pot and put away the leftovers. “Do you want dessert? I have some ice cream, I know.”

Skye gave a mock shiver. “Not now. Definitely later, though.”

She glanced out the window, barely able to see anything in the waning light. “Exactly how much snow is expected?” She hadn’t listened to the news coming home, preferring to listen to music.

“About a foot, maybe two.” He handed her a bowl. “You do know we’re here for the duration?”

“How long do you think that will be?” She worried at her lower lip.

“A day for sure, maybe more.” He knew for a fact it would be at least two days, but he didn’t share that information. “They’re pretty good about clearing the roads.” And they were, just not this far out from the city limits. Again, something he didn’t feel the need to share at the moment.

He cleared his throat. “Is there someone you should notify?”

Skye shook her head, sending a waft of scent floating in the air. Hank inhaled deeply. While she’d washed with his products, they smelled ten times better on her. Fresh. Sweet. And so damn sexy.

He glanced at her. She’d rolled up the long sleeves of his shirt. The neck was wide, exposing the expanse of creamy satin skin that had made him harden earlier. It hung around her curvy frame—except from one strategic location. Her breasts. The fabric clung to the firm roundness and her hardened nipples were clearly outlined. He shifted his stance, his body hardening once more as he imagined lifting the shirt and bending his head. He’d take her into his mouth, making her groan as he sucked on her ripe flesh.

“No, I live alone.”

It took Hank a moment to realize she was answering his earlier question, so lost was he in his lustful thoughts. “Why don’t you go sit down? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Okay.” Skye didn’t argue. She was feeling a little shaky, but she thought it was being close to him and not a result of her injuries. She made her way to the couch, curling up on the soft leather to stare into the blazing fireplace. When she’d left the craft fair this afternoon, all she’d had on her mind was the orders she’d taken and how long it would take her to fill them. She’d also have to work on making more items to restock her shelves and place some additional orders with her vendors.

Now, she found herself in a situation where she’d be spending the night—maybe more than one—with a man who was, in essence, a stranger. It was a very unfamiliar situation. She’d never been one to sleep around, even though at times she’d craved the companionship of another human. She’d only ever had one serious relationship, and it hadn’t lasted more than six months. She’d realized that she had given into the desire to have someone in her life, instead of actually being with someone she loved. It had ended amicably, but it had taught her a valuable lesson. Being alone was preferable to being with a man who didn’t love you.

She took a deep breath. Hank’s masculine scent clung to the clothes he’d loaned her, assailing her senses. A tremor raced the length of her spine. She closed her eyes against the tightening in her lower belly.

She may not be very experienced, but she recognized the yearning in her gut for what it was. Lust. Primal, elemental, and strong.

More powerful than anything she’d ever felt before.

So powerful that it left her shaken.

In just a few moments, he followed her into the living room. Before taking a seat, he knelt by the fireplace, poking at the logs to make the blaze grow higher. From a basket beside the fireplace, he retrieved another log. He’d turned off the light as he entered and now the room glowed softly, lit only by the fire.

From another basket, he retrieved a small block of wood and what looked like a pocket knife. Her interest instantly peaked.

Instead of taking a seat in the recliner next to the couch, he sat down beside her. Not close enough to be uncomfortable, but close enough to let her know he wanted to be beside her.

Skye had to remind herself that ladies do not jump the bones of men they’d just been rescued by.

No matter how sexy they were.

CHAPTER THREE

. . .

“Some of the most talented crafts-people I know are men.” Skye moved her hand, letting one fingertip touch the piece of wood Hank had in his hand. He also held a small knife. She knew exactly what he did. He made carvings from wood. Very small carvings from the size of the wood he’d chosen. “Some men, and women, lack the patience and coordination it takes to learn the techniques of carving.”

“Yeah. It can be daunting.” He threw her a half-hooded look. “I’ve been told, however, that I’m very good with my hands.”

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