He scowled and his face went white, like he was guilty of something. She shrugged, and he ran his hand through his hair as he turned to leave. "It worked, though. Go make dinner. I'll get cleaned up and help you in a minute."
Whatever his problems were with her would be dealt with. She turned away again, and didn't know what to say. She decided to follow his orders, because if she told him she still had dreams about him, she'd dig herself a hole outside right now and let the storm kill her. Colt's nearness and warm skin on her hers sent tingles throughout her body.
She told herself that Colt was engaged and she was here for her daughter, not romance. If she said this enough, perhaps the words might stick in her heart.
CHAPTER FIVE
"No."
Who said that? Vicki opened her eyes and sat straight up in bed. The voice had been male. The rain outside the window pelted the shutters. Quietness ruled the house at this moment. She rubbed her eyes, blinked, and her mind stayed cloudy until a question hammered in her brain. Had Colt yelled?
Thunder cracked in the air, and Vicki swung her legs onto the cold wooden floor. Once again, his voice grew deeper as he yelled, "I said no."
Questions flashed through her mind. Her throat constricted. Were they in danger? She'd have to get Clara. In a flash, she threw her blankets off her, and her feet smacked on the floorboards. The shutters rattled and the storm raged outside as she ran at full throttle to the other side of the living area.
Silence greeted her ears. In the dark house, nothing stirred. Her racing heart grew calmer as she peeked into Clara's room.
Her daughter slept peacefully.
At least nothing stirred here. Then Colt's voice echoed in the halls. "No."
Clara didn't wake.
Vicki's skin electrified. He pleaded, as if he was hurt, and she turned toward his room. With her ears alerted to every swish of the wind howling, she heard nothing but silence. Was he asleep? She fingered the fabric of her oversized tee shirt in her hands, as she cracked open his door. A softer grumble echoed in her ears.
He must be having a nightmare.
She let her tee shirt go and pushed the door open all the way. Colt needed to stop. He'd wake Clara. They were all safe. Still at his door, she knocked, but he didn't stir.
Her heart thumped as he thrashed his head on the pillow and his voice cracked with pain. "No."
Her heart swelled. She tiptoed close to him and saw his muscular frame twisted in his sheets. He struggled in his nightmare. His forehead was covered with sweat. With her arm crossed over her chest, she took in a deep breath and decided fast. Perhaps the wind and the rain and the temperature changes affected him. The ache in her throat told her that she couldn't let him get sick.
As she tucked the sheets that he'd throw off around him, she leaned over him. She didn't know what to do, but the deep lines of fear on his brow melted her heart. Then, as she rearranged his pillow for more comfort, she brushed his shoulder and realized he was burning hot. She must have been right. He might have a serious fever. She felt his forehead and inhaled.
Now was not the time to be sick. The hurricane outside could be dangerous, and they might need his strength. His head flipped to the other side of the pillow and he let out a moan. She'd never been a nurse, but she had to do something. She rushed to the bathroom, found a washcloth, and wet it. Coolness would help him. As she made her plan, her gaze sharpened and her hands became surer. Then she ran to his bed, brushed his forehead with the cool, wet cloth, and hoped she soothed whatever heated him.
At first, strong hands tugged at hers to pull off the towel, like her presence was what he fought. He tugged her to his chest, but she held firm. Again he yelled out, "No."
The smell of oak and oranges overwhelmed her, and her body softened. If only... No. She shouldn't go there. Instead, she bit her lip and only let go of the towel when he stopped moving. He must be having a calmer dream. Her legs felt weak, and she closed her eyes as she sat on the edge of his bed.
She intended to stand, but then he reached lower on her body and hugged her waist. If only she had made different choices. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek as she fixed the cloth on his head. He tugged her lower, and his hard muscles sent a hum in her blood. His fingers traced her lower back, and she bucked to get off him. "Colt, it's me. It's Vicki."
His body didn't press so hard, but her yearning for him grew before his lips claimed hers. His full lips tasted better than wine, and a sigh escaped her. Her hands inched up to his shoulder to push him away. Her mouth opened to say something, but the embers of desire coursed through her. She returned his kiss and her lips tingled. Her hands that had fought him decided to play with his hair, and stroke him.
In a minute, he'd wake up and stop.
Until then, her body heat made her uncomfortably hot too. Had the storm taken out the air conditioner? His husky groan of desire returned her mind to her predicament, and she tried to sit. He tugged at her top of her panties and boxer shorts she'd borrowed to sleep in. She loosened his grip and bolted away from him, but then he sat up. She pressed her hand with the towel that had been on his head, but he tilted his head and kissed her again. All she could do was moan out his name as he deepened his claim on her lips.
The torrid ache inside her grew, but she stood and let him go. As she stared at him, she realized she clutched the towel in her fist.
Without a sound, he rolled backward, but almost fell off the bed. She placed her hands on his chest to steady him and ensure he lay down straight. The thump of his heartbeat played against her palm, and heat rushed through her.
How had he not woken?
Her body reddened from desire now, but she had an extra layer of mortification.
She brushed his hair and checked his temperature. His forehead seemed cooler now. With her feet planted on the ground, she sighed and thought she should go. He slept peacefully. She turned and slid out of the room.
Thunder cracked in the air as the wind rattled the shutters. She ignored the hurricane and returned to her room, where she slammed her door shut. The sound was louder than she'd intended, and her heart thumped faster. With luck, no one woke up now.
To calm her jumpy nerves, she stood behind the door in her room and covered her mouth. Colt, the man of her dreams for years, still sent her body off course, and he had no idea what had happened. With luck, he'd never remember. She swallowed and ran her hand through her hair. The deepness of his sleep and the nightmares he had kept him knocked out. In the morning, she'd have to face him.