Page 77 of Nothing to Fear

“Throwing steaks in a pan isn’t cooking,” he said, “and I could be a shitty lover, since I’m only the second one you’ve had.”

“Guess when our time together is up, if I’m still alive and not in prison, I’ll have to find a new lover for the sake of comparison.”

Stone-cold jealousy smacked him senseless. It came out of nowhere, like a brass-knuckle sucker punch. Insane since he had no claims on her and didn’t want any. Everything she needed was the opposite of him.

He shuttered the reckless emotion. When this thing between them had run out of steam and she was cleared, she should find someone else. In the meantime, he’d focus on setting the right standard in the bedroom, raise the bar so high some nice guy couldn’t live up to it.

“You should indulge and experiment with a few lovers.” He sounded remarkably nonchalant, despite the wrenching twist in the pit of his stomach. “Before you settle on one guy.”

The hurt expression that tightened across her face gave him the distinct impression he’d been tested and had failed. What shocked him was the instant desire to do anything to wipe that look off her face.

Willow patted his chest, something in her receding, and strutted away to the bathroom. A minute later, the shower started. The relief he’d expected—at no subsequent deep conversation or flaming circus hoops for him to jump through to fix whatever he’d done wrong—didn’t come.

Instead, the urge to check on her niggled at him.

I can’t imagine why any woman would cheat on you.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, doing more than imagining why Kelli had cheated. The bitterness of his own limitations alongside the memory of their last argument hacksawed through him. Tamping it down, he took a long pull on the beer.

Humming from the bathroom rose above the beating sound of the shower. He smiled at the sweet melody, drumming his fingers on the wheel to the tune.

The water shut off. Her humming flowed into pitch-perfect singing. She waltzed through the kitchen naked, drying her hair with a towel.

Willow was sexy as hell, a constant temptation, and he’d never tire of looking at her.

She ascended the steps, graceful, the most sensual woman he’d ever seen, no trying required. He roped an arm around her slender waist and hauled her onto his lap. She fell against him. Cool wet tendrils of her hair clung to his cheek and chest. A damp sheen covered her skin the way he wanted his mouth and fingers to. Suddenly, he was jealous of the shower.

“What’s that song?” Faintly familiar, the name danced on his tongue.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she gazed at him. Fading sunlight twinkled in her soulful eyes. She curled her arm around his neck and kissed him. Those petal-smooth lips subjugated him with a frightening softness.

“‘I Love You, Baby.’” The whisper roared through him like thunder.

It’d been four high-stress, high-octane-fueled days, amplified by adrenaline, but one thing was certain. He wanted to know what loving her and being loved by her would be like.

For the first time in his life, he was drawn to a woman without wanting to own her. Kelli had been a possession more than a partner. It’d taken him a long time to reconcile to that horrible fact.

With Willow, he cared so deeply about her happiness, he wanted her to be free of him to find someone better. As crazy as it sounded, it was the sanest thing in his life.

“That’s the name of the song. Actually, ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.’ By Frankie Valli. Released May 1967. My parents’ song. Dad always sang the I love you, baby part to my mom.”

A wistful smile rose on her lips, but sadness swam in her eyes. She caressed the stubble on his face, kissed him lightly, and drifted onto the back deck.

He swiveled around in the chair, his gaze drawn to follow. Wind whipped through her hair, the incandescent light of the early evening framing her in a golden glow. With no clothes, no makeup, hair caught in a soft breeze, she was a striking beauty. He’d always remember how she looked right now.

Not once did she glance back at him, but the sense she needed him chafed inside his chest. He lowered the throttle and cut the engine.

Strolling outside, he said, “What are you thinking, starling?”

She stilled, and her radiant eyes found his. “Why did you call me that?”

“You remind me of one of those wild songbirds with glossy, dark feathers.”

“But I’m a redhead now.”

“Not forever.” He eased up beside her.

Sunlight bounced off the shimmering, crystalline water. There were no other boats around and the sea was gentle.