A Convenient Proposal(38)

Arden gasped. They both sat straight up on the bed. Both totally naked. In flagrante delicto, indeed.

“Y-yeah, Mom. I’m here. Arden and I are both up here.”

She glared at him, shaking her head.

“I’ll come up,” his mother said.

Griff went to the door, which was open, for heaven’s sake. “Don’t bother, Mom. We were just coming down. Really. We’ll be right there.”

A pregnant pause followed. He could practically visualize his mother as she interpreted the situation.

“Fine,” she said, in a cool, reserved voice. “I’ll make tea.”

“Sounds good,” he called. “See you in a minute.”

He reached for his shorts and jeans and looked over to see Arden pulling up her own. He’d seen her embarrassed before, but never had her cheeks blazed so bright a red.

“I am not going down there,” she whispered. “I refuse.”

“What are you going to do? She knows you’re here.”

“Because you told her so!” Picking up her sweater, she fought her way in, realized it was inside out and swore as she took it off again. “How stupid could you be?”

Griff fought the urge to laugh. “It’ll be okay, Arden. We’re all adults. We’ll get past this.”

“I will not get past being caught in your bed—naked, of all things—by your mother, of all people.”

“So you’re going to…”

“I’m leaving by the front door.” She pulled the sweater down to her waist and smoothed her hair. “Then I’m packing my suitcase and my dog and going back to Florida, where I will never have to face your mother, your father or your family ever again!”





Chapter Seven





Arden did exactly as she’d threatened. Storming into the guest cottage, though, she realized Igor needed to go for a walk.

She took him out the sunroom door and tried to stay behind the building as much as possible, in case Griff’s mother might be able to see her through the kitchen windows of the main house. And if Griff came after her, perhaps he wouldn’t search near the forest, where Igor liked to explore.

The sun lingered just above the ridges of the mountains, and the air had chilled considerably since noon, so Arden found herself getting cold long before Igor had satisfied his curiosity. She wasn’t used to temperatures in the forties, of course. And she wasn’t used to leaping straight from sexual satisfaction to a state of panicked embarrassment.

“Come on, Igor. Let’s go.” Tugging on his leash, she forced him to abandon an interesting fallen tree to walk back with her across the small lawn. “I’ll make your dinner before we leave.”

After mixing the canned and dry food she fed him, she refilled his water dish. Then she went into the bedroom to pack. But her hysteria had spent itself, and instead of pulling out her suitcase, she simply sat on the bed with her head in her hands.

Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame anyone else for the disaster that had occurred. The entire situation had been her fault. She’d intended to stay in the sitting area upstairs, had even picked up a magazine to read. But then Griff had put his head out the door, sent her that troublemaking grin and invited her to peek into his room. His unbuttoned shirt had revealed a tanned, muscled chest and the strong column of his throat—images she couldn’t get out of her mind once he disappeared again.

And she had to admit to being curious. What did a boy’s room look like? She’d never seen one, never visited a family where she was encouraged to play in the children’s rooms. A peek wouldn’t hurt.

But she was always fascinated by the books in any room she entered. And so she’d been drawn to his collection…and then he’d walked out of the bathroom without a shirt. How was she supposed to keep her distance, seeing his chiseled shoulders, his strong forearms covered with golden hairs, and the flat plane of his stomach? When they stood close, he’d smelled of some tangy soap and fresh air. Seeing the droplets of water sprinkled across his chest, she’d simply given in to every impulse she’d managed to control over the past three days.

With a moan, Arden fell sideways and curled up on the bed. Three days. She’d just had sex—wild, joyful and totally wonderful sex—with a man whom she hadn’t known existed before New Year’s Eve.

And his mother had caught them…or near enough. How could Arden face Mrs. Campbell with that knowledge in both their minds? Surely this qualified as a horrible abuse of her hosts’ hospitality. Arden wouldn’t be surprised if Griff’s parents asked her to leave. She should really save them the trouble and take off.