Fate Intended (The Coulter Men Series Book 3) (15 page)

He pushed back with a shake of his head. “Wow.”

Peeling himself away, he stepped backward. His cheeks were flushed, and it took him two deep breaths before he explained, “I promised you food. And I do deliver on my promises.”

Jane followed, not thinking of food, but wondering—how do you make a man, what did Eddie call it? Put out?

Chapter 20

Leading her to the kitchen, where white walls and steel appliances gave it a professional look, he pulled out an apron. “For you, my dear,” he offered with a bit of flare.

He wrapped the fabric around her. Suiting her up for work in the kitchen brought his body within inches of hers. As he reached behind her to cinch the strings, her pulse quickened, releasing the flowery scent of her perfume. She breathed deep, closed her eyes, and committed to memory the beauty of his scent mingled with hers. As instinctually as a dizzy traveler grabs a railing, she braced herself by latching onto to his forearms. Muscle twitched and flexed under her hands. Final loop finished, he didn’t let go. He pulled her in. Slow hands spanned the curve of her back, holding her body against his. “I can’t believe I have you all alone. Not in a restaurant. Or a park. And no Sasha to fear.”

A smile flitted across her lips and a blush rose to her cheeks as she thought of the possibilities. She guessed they shared the same thoughts. She closed the last few inches between them, stood on tip-toe and kissed him. “Just us. What could be more perfect?”

He grinned. His fingers traced the smooth skin of her cheek. “Damn, but if you aren’t a distraction.”

She didn’t have time to ask if that was a good thing or bad thing before he crushed her to him and kissed her until she was breathless. Then as suddenly as the kiss began, it stopped. With a brisk shake of his head, he spun her body toward the kitchen and gave her a little nudge. “Stop distracting me, wench. A man needs food.”

“You started it,” Jane said as she made herself comfortable on a bar stool.

“You’re not helping?”

“I’m a guest. You cook for me. If I invited you to dinner, I would cook for you. If I knew how to cook.”

He laughed as he opened cabinets and pulled out bowls and cutting boards. “You can’t cook?”

Jane shook her head and leaned on her arms on the cool granite counter top.

“Well, fortunately for us, I am a fantastic cook. My only rule is, if I cook, you clean up.”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“No. I never mix business with pleasure and since my business is cleaning…well….”

Trip’s laugh filled the room. “In that case, my lady, you just rest and let me take care of it all.”

He threw a dollop of butter in the skillet and it sizzled and melted straight away. He hummed as he stirred and chopped; the white apron he tied around his own thick neck a sharp contrast to his tanned skin. He commented as he worked as if being filmed for a cooking show. “And we’ll sauté those onions until they are slightly browned on the edges. It will release the sugars and the sweetness. Ah yes, onions can be sweet…much like my lazy kitchen mate.” He winked at Jane and shivers ran from her heart to her toes. One word explained it all. Love.

She loved him. The “for real” him. This was way more than the crush she developed a year ago. A second thought crept in to her mind—why was she surprised? He was perfect. And he was hers, sort of.

He poured them each a glass of wine, then poured the rest over a dish of red potatoes. He set hers in front of her with a little bow and said, “For the lady.” She grabbed it and knocked it back like a dusty cowhand with his first shot of whiskey. As the alcohol moved from her empty stomach to her veins, she felt warm. Trip looked so happy, so trusting. From out of the blue, a twinge of guilt hit her. He had no clue she was lying to him about almost every part of her life.

Jane imagined telling him the truth, in its entirety, but she eschewed the thought as quickly as it was formed. She had to keep her senses about her. To have sex with him was one thing; to be honest was another.

His words jolted her from her musings. “I don’t know why my mom always acted like cooking a bird was such a chore.” He unwrapped the chicken and ran it under water in the sink before sticking it in a pan and pouring oil on his hands. “Oil it, salt it, and stick it in the oven. What’s so complicated about that?”

Jane shrugged. She hadn’t a clue and didn’t really care. He could be roasting bologna and she would be on cloud nine.

“Bird’s in the oven,” he said as he washed his hands. “Potatoes are in the roaster. Why don’t we,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her from her stool, “go relax in the den while it cooks?”

Jane nodded. He grabbed their glasses, another bottle of wine, and pointed her to the door.

He uncorked the wine and filled their empty glasses before turning his attention to the fireplace. He stacked wood on the grate, lit the kindling, and gently blew on the growing flame.

Jane let out a contented sigh and picked up her glass of wine. She took a sip and nearly choked. Grimacing, she looked at her full glass with a frown. She had never had anything so bitter and dry. It nearly sucked the breath from her lungs. Trip’s back was turned as he poked at the logs on the fire, so she took a deep breath and chugged. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was working so hard to make everything perfect.

She tucked her feet under her on the leather couch and leaned her body against the arm. It was so cozy in this room. The fire blazed. The snap and crackle of the wood relaxed her every muscle. Her skin tingled.

Trip joined her on the couch. “You out? Want me to get you more?”

“Oh, no. I’m…I was thirsty.”

“What did you think?” he asked as he swirled the red liquid in his glass.

“It was nice.”

“Frankie picked it out.” Trip took a swig and coughed. “That’s awful. You liked it?”

“No,” Jane laughed. “It was bad.”

Trip set his glass on the table. “Good lord, Frankie must not have any taste buds.”

Jane took his hand and settled it on her lap. “I like you, Trip Coulter. I like that you care about making me happy, but I want you to know that you make me happiest by just being you.”

Trip grinned and gave the wine glass a little shove with his foot. “You’re the one who drank the cat urine wine, lady.”

“I held my nose and chugged…like taking medicine.”

Trip’s eyes were soft as he looked her over. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his voice was low, husky. “Crazy girl. You could have said it was horrible.”

Her cheeks warmed and she shrugged. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

His chuckle was low, sexy. As if by instinct, she snuggled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her body tight to him. “You’re as perfect as a girl could get, Miss Jane. Hell, you watched my dog and barely knew me. You’re beautiful. I swear, your eyes sparkle. It’s probably all the orneriness in you, but it’s still beautiful. And that smile of yours? Oh hell, it just makes me weak.”

“This smile?” Jane flashed a cheesy, exaggerated smile.

Trip laughed. “Um, sure.”

A fit of giggles caught hold of her. She tried to get serious, but she couldn’t control her laughter.

Trip cupped her cheek in his hand. “There it is. That smile. Damn lady, but I’d gladly do backflips just to make you happy…just to see that.”

Jane looked up at him. “You can do backflips?”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I didn’t mean the physical kind exactly.”

“Oh, so you can’t actually….” Jane made flipping motions with her hand.

“Well, I’ve never actually tried…but if you want….”

He started to get up. Jane grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “No, no. You don’t have to prove anything. Besides, you might hurt yourself if you fail.”

“Me? Rock solid, baby. Nothing can hurt this.” He gave his chest a slap.

“Oh, okay. I see. But still, you don’t have to do backflips to impress me. I like you very much just the way you are too.”

“I’ve grown on you, huh?”

Jane rested her head against his arm. “Like mold.”

Trip’s laugh filled the room. “I’m mold. How perfect. I tell you how beautiful you are, and I get called mold.”

Jane rubbed her cheek against his arm. “Oh fine…,” her voice was teasing, “you have a sexy smile.”

“Me? Sexy smile? That’s pretty good…though I did have to fish awfully hard for it.”

Jane hugged his bicep. “You know I liked you for forever…that I thought you were handsome….”

“Thought?”

“Think,” Jane corrected. “I think you’re handsome.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I worked on my guns.” He flexed the muscle under her cheek.

Jane laughed and rolled her head against his arm. “You were beautiful before, too.”

“Handsome.”

“Oops, handsome. I daydreamed of you all the time—wanted you for myself. When you said you needed help, I jumped at the chance! I knew I just needed a chance and I’d win you for myself.”

“Smart girl.” He kissed her forehead, looked down at her and smiled. “Beautiful. Sweet. Conniving. Ferocious right hook. No wonder I love you.”             

“Really? You
love
me?” She choked out the words.

Trip nodded. “It might sound crazy, but I do.”

“So, what about tomorrow and the next day?” Jane’s words were quiet.

“I’ll love you each and every day until you are old and gray.”

Trip kissed her again. His lips lingered on her warm skin.

Jane’s spirits soared, then reality brought her back down to earth. She felt nauseous. She didn’t know what to say—didn’t know what to do. The truth sat on the tip of her tongue. She could explain everything to him—that she tried to protect her father. But in Russia, the word of a criminal’s daughter versus the body of a dead KGB agent, would get her jailed or killed for certain. And Sasha harbored her.

Thoughts of Sasha assured her silence. She took a breath. “I, ah, I have to use the bathroom.” She leaped from the seat and looked around the room.

Trip stood slowly. A frown and a clenched jaw made him look much too serious. He probably wondered how she went from happily cuddling to freaked out quicker than a Siberian freeze.

He sighed. “It’s back here.” Jane almost ran, slipping inside and locking the door. She tried not to cry, but tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
Oh, Trip, Trip, Trip…what do I do?
She sat down on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, her head resting on top of them.
Why did you have to die, Poppa? You could help me.
She choked on a sob, the sound echoed in the tile-filled room. She covered her mouth with her hands. Confusion and indecision made her head hurt. Why couldn’t she just be happy with right now? Why did she have to keep thinking of the future? What was wrong with her? He said he loved her; he didn’t ask her to marry him! Burying her face in her hands, the harder she tried to manage her tears, the more they flowed. Her old life was gone and she was on the run…maybe forever. It wasn’t fair. Not fair at all.

“Jane.” Trip spoke through the door. His voice was so close he had to be leaning against it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I knew you were nervous and it was stupid of me….”

Hiccup. “I’m fine.”

“I can hear you crying. Please, open the door and talk to me.”

Jane sniffed, took a deep breath and stretched an arm up to the lock. He swung the door open and stepped into the little room, sliding down the vanity to sit on the floor beside her.

Jane wiped her eyes and looked at him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. He took a sharp breath and cleared his throat. Jane’s heart sank to her toes, making her stomach feel ill as it passed by. A smart girl would end this here and now.

He touched her cheek gently, wiping a tear away with his fingertips.

She ran the words through her head like a trial balloon.
Yes, this is too fast. I don’t love you. I really should go. We could be friends….
Then she could walk away and never see him again. She couldn’t make promises for tomorrow, much less until she was old and gray.

She took a deep breath, laid her hand flat on his chest. She could feel his warmth; his heartbeat. “I….” She told her mouth to say the words that would sever the bond and end the problem. “I….”
Just say it’s over!
“I love you, too.”

He pressed a hand to her cheek and held it there. “Then why?”

“I guess I’m scared. I just lost my Poppa and the thoughts of the future—they scare me. I don’t know where my life is even headed. I barely take care of Frosty and me. I don’t exactly have a good background. I am certain your family would never like…”

“My family will accept whoever I love. Or they don’t accept me.” His words were firm.

“But they would be right. You could do better…”

“The hell I could. Don’t be stupid, Jane. I told you. I’ve been telling you. You’re perfect for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“But…but…I can’t, I mean I don’t want to marry.”

“Oh, hell. How did you get that out of one simple ‘I love you’?”

Jane shrugged and bit her lower lip. She was losing it.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder and tucked her close to him. “I swear, I wasn’t asking for that. I just wanted you to know how special you are to me.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “I wanted you to know that as long as you want me, there will be no other women in my life. I swear, I’m not thinking of tying the knot any time soon.”