perfectly natural, brotherly feeling. But the slow tightening in his gut told him otherwise.
****
The firm pressure and rough skin sealed her future, and relief flooded her thoughts. Finn wasn’t tossing her out. In the room upstairs, she’d create the museum’s new living exhibit and grab herself a more exciting job. “You won’t regret this. But how will we explain this change to the ladies?”
Shaking his head, Finn ran a hand over his face, biceps bunching as he moved. “A worry for tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”
Her mouth went dry. For the second night in a row, she stood across from a bare-chested Finn, and attempted conversation. As she stood, the sheet unwound from her body. She gathered it into a ball and held it out, eager to get out of the contaminated pajamas. “Here, this is yours. Could I borrow a T-shirt? I can’t wear this nightgown again until I wash off that animal’s dander.” Ideas for how to start the scene bubbled through her thoughts, and her fingers itched to get them recorded. She gestured toward the stairs. “Actually, that’s okay. I’ll do without.”
“No, wait.” Finn’s gaze ran down her body, pausing on her exposed legs. Then he squared his shoulders and tucked the sheet under his arm. “Be right back.”
At the heated look in his eyes, a tingle ran over her skin. Her comment had obviously sparked his thoughts. That reminded her, she had to phone Nick and call off the engagement. If she truly loved him, she would not be panting after Finn. Tomorrow…and from the inn’s phone. The air in the room was cold. Vena crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders. If she’d remembered the temperature difference between Los Angeles and Dry Creek, she would have packed flannel pajamas.
She tried not to stare at Finn as he walked toward his bedroom, but his well-muscled physique was hard to ignore. Ripples moved across his back with each stride, and she bit back a moan. Research. Pure research. The specific details were needed for the scripts. A man of the 1880s would have been just as fit, although maybe not as tall. Her nipples tightened into buds.
“Here’s a shirt. Can you find your way upstairs?”
His deep voice brought her to the present. She blinked hard, his gorgeous chest coming into focus. Dark hair on tight pecs, curling toward the center and running in a fine line down well-defined stomach muscles toward the unfastened snap of his jeans. Her fingers closed into her palm to keep from reaching out.
Mercy, didn’t the man ever do up all the snaps? “Thanks, Finn. Goodnight.” Spinning on her heel, she hurried upstairs before her tongue fell out of her mouth and she made a total fool of herself.
The next morning, Vena peeked into the kitchen. One task accomplished—she’d used the pay phone at Lottie’s to call Nick. No big surprise that he wasn’t too upset about her breaking off their engagement. What a sad commentary on that relationship. Good thing he wasn’t the type to bear a grudge. By the time she returned from vacation, they’d be back to boss and employee—just like before they’d started dating.
Her last suitcase reclaimed from the ladies’ house grasped in her hand, she scanned the room for Finn. So glad the ladies were late sleepers, because there wasn’t a delicate explanation for her hasty departure. Tools lay across the counter, and lumber was stacked on the floor. She grabbed a mug of coffee and headed upstairs, anxious to set up her workspace.
Within fifteen minutes, Vena located a small table in an adjoining bedroom, placed it under the south-facing window, and arranged her tablet with its attached keyboard, reading light, and research materials. Almost ready to turn on the tablet, she thought of one last thing she needed and left the room.
Following the muffled clanking of metal on metal, she searched the downstairs rooms until she found Finn lying on his back, half inside the kitchen sink cupboard. His
****
The firm pressure and rough skin sealed her future, and relief flooded her thoughts. Finn wasn’t tossing her out. In the room upstairs, she’d create the museum’s new living exhibit and grab herself a more exciting job. “You won’t regret this. But how will we explain this change to the ladies?”
Shaking his head, Finn ran a hand over his face, biceps bunching as he moved. “A worry for tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”
Her mouth went dry. For the second night in a row, she stood across from a bare-chested Finn, and attempted conversation. As she stood, the sheet unwound from her body. She gathered it into a ball and held it out, eager to get out of the contaminated pajamas. “Here, this is yours. Could I borrow a T-shirt? I can’t wear this nightgown again until I wash off that animal’s dander.” Ideas for how to start the scene bubbled through her thoughts, and her fingers itched to get them recorded. She gestured toward the stairs. “Actually, that’s okay. I’ll do without.”
“No, wait.” Finn’s gaze ran down her body, pausing on her exposed legs. Then he squared his shoulders and tucked the sheet under his arm. “Be right back.”
At the heated look in his eyes, a tingle ran over her skin. Her comment had obviously sparked his thoughts. That reminded her, she had to phone Nick and call off the engagement. If she truly loved him, she would not be panting after Finn. Tomorrow…and from the inn’s phone. The air in the room was cold. Vena crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders. If she’d remembered the temperature difference between Los Angeles and Dry Creek, she would have packed flannel pajamas.
She tried not to stare at Finn as he walked toward his bedroom, but his well-muscled physique was hard to ignore. Ripples moved across his back with each stride, and she bit back a moan. Research. Pure research. The specific details were needed for the scripts. A man of the 1880s would have been just as fit, although maybe not as tall. Her nipples tightened into buds.
“Here’s a shirt. Can you find your way upstairs?”
His deep voice brought her to the present. She blinked hard, his gorgeous chest coming into focus. Dark hair on tight pecs, curling toward the center and running in a fine line down well-defined stomach muscles toward the unfastened snap of his jeans. Her fingers closed into her palm to keep from reaching out.
Mercy, didn’t the man ever do up all the snaps? “Thanks, Finn. Goodnight.” Spinning on her heel, she hurried upstairs before her tongue fell out of her mouth and she made a total fool of herself.
The next morning, Vena peeked into the kitchen. One task accomplished—she’d used the pay phone at Lottie’s to call Nick. No big surprise that he wasn’t too upset about her breaking off their engagement. What a sad commentary on that relationship. Good thing he wasn’t the type to bear a grudge. By the time she returned from vacation, they’d be back to boss and employee—just like before they’d started dating.
Her last suitcase reclaimed from the ladies’ house grasped in her hand, she scanned the room for Finn. So glad the ladies were late sleepers, because there wasn’t a delicate explanation for her hasty departure. Tools lay across the counter, and lumber was stacked on the floor. She grabbed a mug of coffee and headed upstairs, anxious to set up her workspace.
Within fifteen minutes, Vena located a small table in an adjoining bedroom, placed it under the south-facing window, and arranged her tablet with its attached keyboard, reading light, and research materials. Almost ready to turn on the tablet, she thought of one last thing she needed and left the room.
Following the muffled clanking of metal on metal, she searched the downstairs rooms until she found Finn lying on his back, half inside the kitchen sink cupboard. His
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