long-abandoned caretaker’s cottage on the southern-most corner of the property, which was actually owned by Dante’s wife, a former spy named Macy Rush. Sean had told Brynn he’d discovered the refuge while walking off his buzz after the wedding reception, but the whole truth was that Dante had shown him the spot so they could indulge in cigars and aged Scotch on the eve of the nuptials. Apparently, massive French chateaus did not come with man caves.
Dusty with cobwebs and inhabited by a family of beech marten who’d taken up residence in the roof, the rustic hideaway wasn’t exactly five-star, but it would do for the night.
It did, after all, have a bed.
Not that he intended for them to use it. Their parting was coming nearer and nearer, and sooner rather than later, Sean was going to have to stop indulging in behavior that was going to make their separation harder to bear.
For both of them.
“Brrr,” Brynn said, tugging the tattered tartan blanket she’d found in the back of the pickup around her shoulders while Sean removed grimy sheets from over the battered chairs and lumpy mattress. “I’m missing sunny Spain already.”
In this region of France, the air was thinner and colder, perfect for growing grapes but anathema to Sean’s native New Orleans blood. When he’d been there for the wedding, he’d grumbled about the weather constantly, if only to himself. But with Brynn around, the chill came in handy.
“It’s been a while since I was a Boy Scout, but I think I can manage a fire,” he announced.
She snorted, which was both adorably un-Brynn-like and saucily alluring. “You, Sean Devlin, were never a Boy Scout.”
“I could have been,” he insisted.
“Only in an alternate reality.”
With a nod, he conceded her point. Other than venturing into the swamp with his mother’s brother to collect gator heads to sell to the tourists, his childhood hadn’t featured much by the way of outdoor excursions.
“True,” he said, “but I was Special Forces. Building a fire is Survival 101.”
He collected the needed supplies, including some straw for kindling and a lighter Brynn had packed into the go-bags. He used what was left of a three-legged chair for firewood, first clearing the chimney with a sooty broom handle.
“Won’t the smoke give away the fact that we’re squatting on Macy’s property?” Brynn asked, tugging hard on an iron hook hung over the grate. She leaned her whole weight on it until both she and the hook were screeching from the resistance. In the end, she won the battle, though she nearly tumbled into the flames.
Luckily, Sean was there to catch her.
The scent of smoke clung to her hair, along with the earthy scents of soil and salty sweat. They’d been on the road for hours. She hadn’t freshened up since before their encounter with the triplet teens, and yet, the feel of her body affected him as if she’d just walked out of a steamy shower in sexy lingerie.
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. To keep warm,” he whispered.
“There are other ways to get me hot.”
“Don’t I know it,” he replied, then gently but firmly pushed her aside.
He and Brynn had toyed with fire long enough. Sex may have started as a means of buying time and trust, but now it had thrust them into a relationship that neither one of them could afford. In the morning, Sean would meet with Macy. Through her contacts, he’d obtain the information he needed to pursue his kidnappers and discover, once and for all, how and why Jayda had dragged him back into her orbit, even after her death.
Brynn, on the other hand, needed to go home. She had a business to run and a life to live that would someday include a relationship with a man who wasn’t going to let her down.
“If Macy’s men see the smoke, they might come and check it out, but they won’t do it with guns blazing. Dante uses this place to decompress. They’ve been instructed to give it a wide berth. In the morning, we’ll
Dusty with cobwebs and inhabited by a family of beech marten who’d taken up residence in the roof, the rustic hideaway wasn’t exactly five-star, but it would do for the night.
It did, after all, have a bed.
Not that he intended for them to use it. Their parting was coming nearer and nearer, and sooner rather than later, Sean was going to have to stop indulging in behavior that was going to make their separation harder to bear.
For both of them.
“Brrr,” Brynn said, tugging the tattered tartan blanket she’d found in the back of the pickup around her shoulders while Sean removed grimy sheets from over the battered chairs and lumpy mattress. “I’m missing sunny Spain already.”
In this region of France, the air was thinner and colder, perfect for growing grapes but anathema to Sean’s native New Orleans blood. When he’d been there for the wedding, he’d grumbled about the weather constantly, if only to himself. But with Brynn around, the chill came in handy.
“It’s been a while since I was a Boy Scout, but I think I can manage a fire,” he announced.
She snorted, which was both adorably un-Brynn-like and saucily alluring. “You, Sean Devlin, were never a Boy Scout.”
“I could have been,” he insisted.
“Only in an alternate reality.”
With a nod, he conceded her point. Other than venturing into the swamp with his mother’s brother to collect gator heads to sell to the tourists, his childhood hadn’t featured much by the way of outdoor excursions.
“True,” he said, “but I was Special Forces. Building a fire is Survival 101.”
He collected the needed supplies, including some straw for kindling and a lighter Brynn had packed into the go-bags. He used what was left of a three-legged chair for firewood, first clearing the chimney with a sooty broom handle.
“Won’t the smoke give away the fact that we’re squatting on Macy’s property?” Brynn asked, tugging hard on an iron hook hung over the grate. She leaned her whole weight on it until both she and the hook were screeching from the resistance. In the end, she won the battle, though she nearly tumbled into the flames.
Luckily, Sean was there to catch her.
The scent of smoke clung to her hair, along with the earthy scents of soil and salty sweat. They’d been on the road for hours. She hadn’t freshened up since before their encounter with the triplet teens, and yet, the feel of her body affected him as if she’d just walked out of a steamy shower in sexy lingerie.
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. To keep warm,” he whispered.
“There are other ways to get me hot.”
“Don’t I know it,” he replied, then gently but firmly pushed her aside.
He and Brynn had toyed with fire long enough. Sex may have started as a means of buying time and trust, but now it had thrust them into a relationship that neither one of them could afford. In the morning, Sean would meet with Macy. Through her contacts, he’d obtain the information he needed to pursue his kidnappers and discover, once and for all, how and why Jayda had dragged him back into her orbit, even after her death.
Brynn, on the other hand, needed to go home. She had a business to run and a life to live that would someday include a relationship with a man who wasn’t going to let her down.
“If Macy’s men see the smoke, they might come and check it out, but they won’t do it with guns blazing. Dante uses this place to decompress. They’ve been instructed to give it a wide berth. In the morning, we’ll
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