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She’d left the scene with Theo heading into the woods, accompanied only by her dog, Mochi. But as Daphne sat there, facing the huge window, she saw the deck beyond, and Chris’s image from earlier materialized, conjured by her treacherous imagination.
You said you wanted to write the Theo scene, and instead you’re giving me this? Really?
It was like when Tika pretended she needed to go potty and really just wanted to con Daphne into an extra walk.
Focus.
Theo was stepping into the forest…
A door opens behind me, the slow creak of it barely audible even in the silence. I freeze, breath held, as I peer over my shoulder into the settlement. The sound comes from the cabin where Atticus is staying. If he sees me, he’ll give me hell for going out alone after dark.
I slide into the shadows and lower my hand to Mochi’s head, asking her to be quiet. Atticus steps out. He’s shirtless, his muscled—
Ack! That was not the story. Reverse!
Daphne cut that and tried again.
I slide into the forest. Branches sigh in the breeze, and I inhale the sharp tang of pine. I take another step. The lake stretches out before me, shimmering in the moonlight. Something ripples twenty feet from shore. Then a familiar head of dark-blond hair breaks the surface. Atticus. As I duck behind a tree, he walks from the lake, water running off his muscled shoulders and his chest, glistening—
Daphne slapped shut her laptop. She sat there, her head back, eyes shut. At a click, she glanced left and, for a moment, she thought she was writing again, this time penning a scene of Chris coming out of her bedroom, his dark-blond hair sleep-tousled, his chiseled face cast in half shadow, his muscled shoulders appearing over the back of the sofa and then his chest, nothing but bare skin all the way down to… Okay, he was wearing sweatpants, but they rode low, down on his hips, the muscles there riveting her gaze as she stared.
Now that was a sexy gluteus medius.
And that was also a phrase she never expected to use in her life.
Daphne realized she wasn’t conjuring Chris in her literary mind. He was actually out of the bedroom. She started opening her mouth, and then realized something else—if she was seeing his hip—and that very sexy stretch of muscle—he was angled to the side, which meant he wasn’t coming her way.
Chris tiptoed to the stairwell and peered down. Making sure he wouldn’t be disturbing her, just as she’d checked to be sure his door was closed. He paused there, head tilting as if straining to listen.
God, the guy was gorgeous, cast in shadowy moonlight, half naked, his cheeks dark with beard shadow. The sexiest thing, though, wasn’t that stubbled jawline or those perfect biceps or even that oh-so-tempting strip of bare hip. It was the way he paused, listening, considerate of the fact that he might wake her. Once he was sure he hadn’t, he tiptoed with such care that she had to smile. To withstand northern winters, the house was solidly built, and that included floors so thick she wouldn’t hear him from below unless he tap-danced.
He tiptoed to the door leading to the deck. For a moment, he stood there, hand on the knob. Then, with another glance back toward the stairs, he eased open the door. He was halfway out when he gave a start and looked down.
“Hey, Tika,” he whispered, and Daphne realized the dog had slipped from her side. “Couldn’t sleep either? Or keeping an eye on the dude stealing your person’s bed?”
His voice was different. Not the timbre, but the tone, wry and soft. From sleeping, she presumed. He wasn’t fully awake yet, not fully himself yet.
“I’m just stepping out,” he whispered to the dog. “Please don’t eat me. Also, please don’t bar the door and leave me out there. It’s kinda chilly.”
Daphne bit her cheek to keep from laughing. He eased the patio door open a little more, his gaze on Tika. Daphne tensed, ready to interfere if Tika objected to Chris going out, but soon he was on the deck.
“Coming with me, are you?” he whispered as he reached a tentative hand down. A skritching, as if he was petting Tika’s coarse ruff. “Now I’m allowed to pet you? Whew. Unless it’s a trick. Getting me to step all the way out so you can slam the door shut behind me.” A soft laugh. “I’m onto your plot, pup. You go out first.”
He waved a hand, and Tika went outside. Then he followed, leaving the door cracked open before he moved into the full-length window in front of her. He was barefoot and shirtless, his sweatpants baggy until he leaned his forearms onto the railing and gave her the perfect view of a perfect ass.
Seriously, Daphne? You’re going to sit in the dark and drool over your unsuspecting guest?
She should say something. She really should. And she would… soon.
Chris lowered his hand to Tika’s head, and the dog didn’t just accept the petting, she leaned into him. Chris grinned in such unabashed delight that Daphne’s heart skipped.
Who are you, Chris Ainsworth? Who are you really?
She sat there, watching him as he gazed out at the lake and petted Tika. When the dog glanced Daphne’s way, her heart stopped. Chris was going to turn around and catch her creeping on him.
He didn’t, but the thought was enough for her to rise from the sofa. She set down her laptop, walked to the door, and pushed it farther open.
“Hey,” she said softly.
