as she saw them approach. Scott helped Skye into the passenger seat. She climbed in, grasped on to Honey as if for warmth, for tactile comfort.
“Is that your bike?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. So we’ll leave it here. Is there someone I can call to come and fetch it?”
She nodded.
“Fine. I’ll call whoever it is when we get home.”
Scott pulled into Skye’s driveway, heater still cranked.
“No!”
It was the first time she’d spoken since the beach.
“Not here. Not my house…please.”
He looked at her. She was still shivering under his leather jacket, arms still wrapped around Honey. “Where?”
“Anywhere but here.” She looked away, out the dark window. “The wedding stuff. The caterer’s stuff…it’s all in there. In my house.”
“I see. Is there anywhere else, anyone you want to stay with?”
She shook her head.
Scott backed slowly out of Skye’s driveway, turned down his. He couldn’t think of another plan. The woman was in shock. And if she didn’t get some clothes on, her core temperature up soon, she’d be dealing with hypothermia, as well. If she wasn’t already.
Scott ran a hot bath, then fished around in his closet for something for her to wear. It all looked foreign to him. Rex had provided him with a “writer’s” wardrobe. Scott found a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and a fleece sweatshirt. She would swim in them, but they’d keep her warm.
While she bathed, he built a fire. He heated soup and poured a large brandy. This he pushed into her hands when she walked into his living room.
“Here. Want some soup?”
She looked deep into his eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. “Scott, thank you. I—I don’t know what to say…”
“It’s okay. Come, sit here by the fire.” He pulled the sofa up close to the warmth of the flames. She sat. Her hair hung in damp, dark waves, her silver eyes were wide, startling against her impossibly thick dark lashes and pale skin.
She took a deep sip of the brandy, swallowed, coughed, eyes watering. Honey settled at her feet, curled into a ball. Scott watched the blush of color creep back under those high cheekbones, into that lush mouth.
He tore his focus from her lips, seated himself in the chair on the opposite end of the hearth. “What happened? Why’d you run?”
She didn’t look at him, just stared into the flickering flames, shaking her head.
“Skye?” he said softly.
Her eyes looked slowly up into his. He swallowed sharply. What he saw there was vulnerable, raw. She’d dropped the veil. She was all naked emotion as she looked at him. It threw him completely.
“He…he didn’t show.” Her voice was thick. “Jozsef left me at the altar.” Moisture pooled along the bottom rims of her eyes, making them glimmer like quicksilver in the fire-light. It spilled over onto her cheeks into shimmering trails.
Something snagged in his chest. He took a shallow breath, came quickly over to her side, put his arms tentatively around her. “It’s okay, Skye. Take it easy. You don’t have to talk now.” He lifted a hand, hesitated, then let it gently stroke her dark hair. His breath caught in a ball. It was soft. So soft under his palm.
“I—I should’ve seen the signs…” A soft sob jerked through her body. Tears spilled softly over her face.
“Shh.” He pulled her close, enveloped her in his arms. Her scent surrounded him, a clean freshness mingled with the sophisticated scent of brandy and the faint saline of seawater. He held her a little tighter, stealing her fragrance with a flare of his nostrils.
She relaxed slightly, rested her dark head against his chest. It was a movement so innocent, so trusting. He couldn’t seem to breathe normally. He allowed his cheek to brush softly against her head, to feel the sensation of her hair on his face.
And something swelled painfully inside him, brought a sharp prick of emotion to his eyes. He hadn’t held a woman like this in a long time. Not since his
“Is that your bike?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. So we’ll leave it here. Is there someone I can call to come and fetch it?”
She nodded.
“Fine. I’ll call whoever it is when we get home.”
Scott pulled into Skye’s driveway, heater still cranked.
“No!”
It was the first time she’d spoken since the beach.
“Not here. Not my house…please.”
He looked at her. She was still shivering under his leather jacket, arms still wrapped around Honey. “Where?”
“Anywhere but here.” She looked away, out the dark window. “The wedding stuff. The caterer’s stuff…it’s all in there. In my house.”
“I see. Is there anywhere else, anyone you want to stay with?”
She shook her head.
Scott backed slowly out of Skye’s driveway, turned down his. He couldn’t think of another plan. The woman was in shock. And if she didn’t get some clothes on, her core temperature up soon, she’d be dealing with hypothermia, as well. If she wasn’t already.
Scott ran a hot bath, then fished around in his closet for something for her to wear. It all looked foreign to him. Rex had provided him with a “writer’s” wardrobe. Scott found a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and a fleece sweatshirt. She would swim in them, but they’d keep her warm.
While she bathed, he built a fire. He heated soup and poured a large brandy. This he pushed into her hands when she walked into his living room.
“Here. Want some soup?”
She looked deep into his eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. “Scott, thank you. I—I don’t know what to say…”
“It’s okay. Come, sit here by the fire.” He pulled the sofa up close to the warmth of the flames. She sat. Her hair hung in damp, dark waves, her silver eyes were wide, startling against her impossibly thick dark lashes and pale skin.
She took a deep sip of the brandy, swallowed, coughed, eyes watering. Honey settled at her feet, curled into a ball. Scott watched the blush of color creep back under those high cheekbones, into that lush mouth.
He tore his focus from her lips, seated himself in the chair on the opposite end of the hearth. “What happened? Why’d you run?”
She didn’t look at him, just stared into the flickering flames, shaking her head.
“Skye?” he said softly.
Her eyes looked slowly up into his. He swallowed sharply. What he saw there was vulnerable, raw. She’d dropped the veil. She was all naked emotion as she looked at him. It threw him completely.
“He…he didn’t show.” Her voice was thick. “Jozsef left me at the altar.” Moisture pooled along the bottom rims of her eyes, making them glimmer like quicksilver in the fire-light. It spilled over onto her cheeks into shimmering trails.
Something snagged in his chest. He took a shallow breath, came quickly over to her side, put his arms tentatively around her. “It’s okay, Skye. Take it easy. You don’t have to talk now.” He lifted a hand, hesitated, then let it gently stroke her dark hair. His breath caught in a ball. It was soft. So soft under his palm.
“I—I should’ve seen the signs…” A soft sob jerked through her body. Tears spilled softly over her face.
“Shh.” He pulled her close, enveloped her in his arms. Her scent surrounded him, a clean freshness mingled with the sophisticated scent of brandy and the faint saline of seawater. He held her a little tighter, stealing her fragrance with a flare of his nostrils.
She relaxed slightly, rested her dark head against his chest. It was a movement so innocent, so trusting. He couldn’t seem to breathe normally. He allowed his cheek to brush softly against her head, to feel the sensation of her hair on his face.
And something swelled painfully inside him, brought a sharp prick of emotion to his eyes. He hadn’t held a woman like this in a long time. Not since his
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