Various States of Undress (6 page)

“J-Jake?”

“Shh.”

“Jake,” she said in a bemused voice. “The power went out. That’s all. Happens a lot up here during storms.” As if confirming her announcement, a generator kicked on and the lights blinked back on.

Even as the warmth of her body and the fresh scent of her hair began to steal his senses, he didn’t budge, but scanned the room for movement. When none came, he slowly eased away. “That’s very inconvenient,” he muttered.

“Well, duh,” she said. But he could hear the laugh in her voice. This time, though, it wasn’t as free and easy as it had been twenty minutes ago.

“We’ll be fine,” he told her. “The security system is on a generator too. And if we’re careful, there’s enough propane to fuel that generator for a month.”

“Good to know.” She pushed him away with gentle fingers, stood up, and walked to the built-in cabinet. A few seconds later, she grabbed a fireplace match and lit a candle. And then another one. She set them on the coffee table. “Just in case. When I was a kid we didn’t have a generator. When the power went out, we would just all sleep next to the fire. My sisters and I had to draw straws to see who got the best sleeping bag.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Of course, my parents got the bed.”

“The bed?”

“It pulls out.” When he didn’t respond, she stared at him. “It’s a pull-out sofa.”

Without warning, an image popped into his head of the bed pulled out. She was in it, propped up on pillows, calling his name. Her dark eyes glowed and her soft lips parted and—

“Jake.”

“Yes, Miss Fulton?”

“Why don’t you pull out the bed? You look really tired.”

Uh oh.

“I’m wide awake. How about that movie?” He grabbed the remote.

He grabbed his hot chocolate next and took a scalding sip. But the heat from the cup did nothing but reinforce the heat coursing through his body. If he knew what was good for him, he would be chugging a glass of ice water.

Chapter Four

N
O
. N
OT AGAIN!
The bobblehead headache was back, and Carolina groaned not willing to open her eyes. Bright sunlight pressed against her eyelids and she brought her palms up to block it. They were freezing. She dropped them. Why was she freezing? And why did she feel as if a reindeer in combat boots had just done a kick line on the small of her back? She shifted, flopping face down onto her stomach and got a mouthful of flannel.

“Ugh.”

Reaching under the covers, she felt the oversoft mattress through the fuzzy sheets and then she remembered. She was at the cabin. In her parents’ bedroom. Smiling into the pillows, she shivered. Who cared if it was cold? But then she shivered again. Okay. A hot shower would help. Seeing Jake ought to warm her up too. Her smile turned a bit naughty and she buried her face in the pillow.

She’d promised to call her mom first thing in the morning and that’s what she needed to focus on. Not what a sleepy, warm Jake might look like as he lay sprawled on the bed next to her, his chest bare. She groaned.

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she burrowed her head under the quilt and flicked open the screen, quickly scanning the alerts that had popped up while the sound had been muted. Twenty-two texts and four missed calls. “Great,” she muttered. The calls were from her sisters, which wasn’t a bad thing, but most of the texts were from Roger, who was obviously too chicken to actually call. Not that she would have answered. He’d sent her brief, terse half-sentences, most of which asked why she wouldn’t see reason.

She’d seen it all right—the moment she’d caught him in the China Room with his hands on another woman’s body. Her sense of reasoning was crystal clear. Grimly, she deleted all of his messages and called her mother.

Marie answered on the first ring. “Hi honey. Sleep well?” Her voice was carefully pleasant.

Not really.
“Yeah, I guess I did. It’s cold, though.”

“If
you
are cold, then your two agents must be freezing.” Marie said.

Two agents?
Oh, right.
“Um, we built a fire so it’s not too bad. We’re running off the generator right now, though.”

“I saw on the Weather Channel that there’s quite a storm out there. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“Like what?” Carolina closed her eyes and the image of Jake’s firm lips, slightly parted came closer and closer until—

“Well, don’t go hiking in a blizzard.” Marie laughed. “But you know that. You never do anything stupid.”

“Nope.” Carolina swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will, honey. Love you. Look, I have a meeting, so . . .” Marie trailed off, her voice gentle.

“No problem, Mom. Love you too.” Carolina clicked the phone off and blew out a breath. Underneath the quilt, the air fanned warmth around her face. She did it again.

A sharp knock at the door startled her, and she twisted onto her side. Before she could say anything, Jake called out from the other side.

“Good morning.”

His deep voice broke into her still muddled thoughts, and she shivered as a flash of heat ran through her. “G-Good morning. Come on in!” she answered, poking out her head and pulling the blankets around her neck before she carefully sat up.

Come on in?
Why had she said that? Why?

The door opened soundlessly and he stood just outside, tousled and frowning. “We’re out of wood.”

So go chop some,
she thought irritably, but gave him a brilliant smile. “Yes. It certainly is cold in the cabin. Especially in here. This room could use more heat.” She paused. Had that sounded like an invitation? Of course it had. She looked down at the quilt to mask her wince. “Uh, I’ll make some coffee.”

“Fun vacation so far?” Jake quirked an eyebrow and zipped up his leather coat.

She glanced at him, noting that he had slept in his clothes. Or not slept. Shadows under his eyes and a tightness to his lean jaw told her that he probably needed coffee worse than she did.

After a tense evening during which they had both pretended to watch a movie, Jake had insisted on abandoning the sofa for the hardwood floor just outside her tiny bedroom, because he didn’t have a partner to back him up. He’d just pulled twenty-four hour guard duty, and she felt bad for him. But it
had
been very comforting knowing that all night long, he had been only eight feet away from her, sitting just outside the door. And she’d been so tired, she hadn’t even had sexy dreams about him. Not many, anyway.

She nodded. “Peachy. Best vacation ever. How about we go chop some wood and warm up?”

Jake suppressed a yawn. “Fine.” Then he stretched and although she told her eyes to behave, they zeroed in on his chest like laser beams. Hard as a brick, that chest. And his shoulders . . . wow. As small as she was, he could probably pick her up, throw her right over one of them and sprint in a dead heat across the snow. Not that she wanted him to, really. It would probably jar her teeth right out of her mouth. But still. Entertaining fantasies of this man rescuing her was fun. What happened after he rescued her, though, was a lot more than fun. In her fantasies, he ran his palms gently down the sides of her face and made sure she was fine. And then he leaned forward and tilted her chin up and kissed the hell out of her.

Like that was ever going to happen.

“I’m just going to brush my teeth first.”
And kick myself back to reality.
Without waiting for a response, she threw back the covers, darted through the living room, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. After rummaging through her carry-on for her toothbrush, she stared into the medicine cabinet mirror, rolling her eyes at her bed-headed self. “Get it together.” Her reflection blinked back at her and another image of Jake in his mirrored shades and well-fitting suit popped into her head. “Snap out of it,” she said. Jake’s rare smile crossed her mind next. With dimples. “Focus,” she muttered. “And stop talking to yourself in clichés.”

“Are you on your phone?” Jake called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Um. No,” she answered, and bared her teeth in the mirror. She turned on the water.

“Oh. I thought I heard you talking to . . .”

“Just to myself,” she yelled, her mouth full of Crest. Great. He probably thought she was weird. An eccentric political celebrity who actually knew nothing about politics. She rinsed her mouth and finger combed her hair, smoothing it behind her ears. No.
She
wasn’t weird. Her life was weird. Three days ago she’d been engaged and contemplating a Rose Garden wedding. Today she was freezing her butt off in her parents’ cabin with a Secret Service agent who blew her ex-fiancé out of the water. How was she going to stand three weeks of this? That female agent better show up, and quick.

As calmly as she could, she walked back downstairs, through the living room, and into the bedroom. Throwing on a sweater and jeans over her pajamas, she went to the rug by the back door and grabbed her boots. “I just hope we can find dry wood. There’s usually some stacked on the front porch under a tarp.”

Jake shrugged on a parka over his leather jacket. Then he put on a ski mask and pulled up the hood of the parka, snapping it under his chin. And then he wiggled into two pairs of gloves. “I’m ready.”

Carolina bit back a laugh. “Can you put your arms down?”

“Pardon?”

She waved a hand at him. “Nothing. But that’s a lot of layers. Even for here.”

He might have shrugged in response, but she couldn’t tell. “Let me go out first, please,” he said and stomped toward the front door like a navy-blue snowman. After keying in the alarm code, he pulled on the door. It was stuck. He yanked on it. Nothing happened. With a large grunt, he leaned backward and with a sucking, crinkling noise, the door broke free of the ice that had frozen it shut and Jake tumbled onto the floor.

“Oh!” Carolina hopped forward, a boot in hand. She tossed it onto the sofa. “Are you okay?”

“Look at that,” Jake muttered, pointing a stiff arm toward the door.

She looked and her jaw dropped open. “We’re snowed in.” A few inches of bright blue sky shone at the top of a wall of snow where the door had been. “I’ll get the shovel.” Reaching down, she offered him a hand. He hesitated, but took it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” he said as he jumped to his feet with agile ease, even with all those extra layers. Fumbling with the hood of his parka, he flipped it back and yanked off the ski mask. “My face might freeze, but I can’t see out of this damn thing.”

Carolina laughed, gratified by the answering smile that crept around the corners of his lips. “Plus you look like an abominable snow-stalker.”

He shook his head. “Why did you want to come here, again?”

“Because it’s awesome. And how often do you get to build a snow tunnel on the way out of your house?” She walked to the catchall closet next to the pantry and rummaged for a snow shovel. Holding it out to him, she grinned. “I’m assuming you won’t let me go first, so here.”

“You’re right.” He took it from her and started to dig. He’d made it about two feet before Carolina heard a voice on the other side.

“Hello? Carolina? Is that you?” The throaty, cracked tone belonged to an older woman.

Carolina grinned. “Regina!” She pushed Jake to the side.

“Get behind me,” Jake commanded, unzipping his parka and leather jacket. He pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth and withdrew his gun.

“Mister President?” crooned the woman. “Are you all right?”

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Carolina stomped a boot on the entryway tile. “It’s just the caretaker. She’s my friend, dammit,” she muttered at the wall of his back.

“Identify yourself,” Jake yelled through the snow wall.

“Knock knock,” said the woman.

Jake turned to glance at Carolina. She shrugged. “She probably wants you to say ‘Who’s there?’”

“I’m not saying that,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“Knock knock,” the voice repeated.

“Oh come on,” Carolina said. “This is fun.”

“This is absurd,” he shot back. Then he took a deep breath. “Who’s there?”

“Regina Frankley.”

“Told you,” Carolina said. “She’ll eat you alive if you let her. Better be careful.”

Jake smiled. “Regina Frankley . . . who?” he called.

“Regina . . . Frankley, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“Good one, Regina!” Carolina called. She tapped Jake on the shoulder. “You can put your gun down. She’s harmless.”

He ignored her. “Ma’am. Ms. Frankley. I’m going to have to ask you to step off the porch. And walk one hundred paces backward.”

Carolina rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Jake. One hundred paces? Regina is close to one hundred as it is.”

“I am not! I’m seventy-six,” squawked the voice behind the snow wall.

“Sorry,” Carolina called with a grimace. She turned to Jake. “Put your gun away. And give me that shovel.” Grabbing it from his hand, she scooped up a large mound and dumped it to the side. Behind her, Jake clasped his mammoth gloves on her shoulders and stared at the snow wall as if he had x-ray vision. His chest brushed her back and she shoveled harder.
Damn
. Why did she have to be attracted to him? She came to the cabin to uncomplicate her life, not make it worse. She should ignore it. Ignore
him.

“Regina lives on the property. And I’m not a target for old ladies, so you can relax.”

He didn’t. And worse, he didn’t even comment. Would it
kill
him to say something? Since the minute they’d arrived at the cabin, he had treated her like she was made of glass. Like a crazy person. Like she might . . .

Carolina went still. Oh. Did he think she was crazy because she’d attacked Roger? She craned her neck and peered at him. Only one way to find out.

“Jake, this is kind of random, but do you think I’m nuts because of . . . what happened in the China Room?”

“No.” He blew out a breath, and the cloud of air mingled with hers. “That bastard had it coming.” The corners of his lips crooked up, and he squinted at the snow wall.

She grinned. Well, at least there was that. As Jake hovered close behind her, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her neck, she tunneled forward another couple of feet. And then she hit daylight. The sharpest blue eyes in the crinkliest face she’d seen in a long time stared back at her. Carolina felt her smile stretch farther. “Hey, Regina.”