Page 88 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
After emptying her own mug in the sink, she joined him, standing in the archway between the kitchen and living room.
She watched as he placed a small log in the red coals, and in moments flames were sizzling over the dry bark. Soon the fire crackled and hissed, hungry flames attacking the fresh supply of wood. Ol’ Dan got slowly off the couch where he’d been sleeping and lay down in front of the fire with a comfortable sigh.
“I wonder what’s happening with the road crew,” Slade said.
“They could be here anytime.”
They turned simultaneously toward the phone and collided. She felt the full impact of the unexpected contact, and her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, but not from pain.
“Shelly.” His arms went around her faster than a shooting star. “Did I hurt you?”
One hand was trapped against his broad chest, while the other hung loosely at her side. “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice as unsteady as his. Still, he didn’t release her.
Savoring his nearness and warmth, she closed her eyes and pressed her head to his chest, listening to the beat of his heart beneath her ear.
Slade went utterly still, and then his arms tightened around her and he groaned her name.
Could anything that felt this wonderful, this good, be wrong? Shelly knew the answer, and her head buzzed with a warning. Even though her eyes were closed, she could see flashing red lights. Slade had held and kissed her only once, and he had instantly regretted it. He’d even refused to talk about it, closing himself off from her. This couldn’t end well.
Yet all the logical arguments melted away like snow in a spring thaw when she was in his arms. His lips moved to her hair, and he breathed in deeply, as though to capture her scent.
“Shelly,” he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion. “Tell me to stop.”
The words wouldn’t form. She knew that she should break away and save them both the agony of guilt. But she couldn’t.
“I want you to hold me,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”
His arms tightened even further, anchoring her against him, and his lips nuzzled her ear, shooting tingles of pleasure down her spine. From her ear he found her cheek, her hair. For an eternity he hesitated.
The phone rang and they broke apart with a suddenness that made her lose her balance. Slade’s hand on her shoulder steadied her. Brushing the hair from her face, she drew a steadying breath and picked up the phone.
“Hello.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Shelly? Are you all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Oh, hi, Dad.” She glanced up guiltily at Slade. His returning look was heavy with his own unhappiness. He brushed a hand through his hair and walked to the picture window, and she returned her attention to the call. “We got the tree.”
“That’s good.” Her father paused. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she answered, somewhat defensively. “How are things at the Adlers’?”
“Not good. I may be here awhile. I’m sorry to be away from you, but Slade’s there to keep you company.”
“How... long will you be?”
“A couple of hours, three at the most. You and Slade will be all right, won’t you?”
But her father didn’t sound any more convinced than she felt when she replied, “Oh, sure.”
She replaced the receiver. Without the call as a buffer, the air in the room seemed to vibrate with Slade’s presence. He turned around and met her gaze. “I’ve got to get to Seattle. Bauer said he’s going to be at the office late anyway, finishing up some things so he can enjoy Christmas without work hanging over his head. I’ve really got to get there.”
What he was really saying was that he had to get away from her. “I know,” she told him. “But how?”
“How’d your dad get to that sick horse?”
“The Adlers’ neighbor, Ted Wilkens, has a pickup with a plow blade. He came for Dad.”
“Would it be possible for him to take me into Seattle?”
