Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(27)

At six-thirty in the morning, amazed to have slept so well, Franci slipped out of bed. She showered, toweled her short hair, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She stepped out of the bathroom to see Sean lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the bed, the sheet pulled over his head and shoulders, but one long, muscular leg and his na**d butt peeking out. The shower hadn’t even disturbed him; he was out cold. She shuddered. She’d completely worn him out. She hadn’t had sex like that in more than four years. That wasn’t exactly their typical lovemaking, but then there was no typical with Sean. It could be wild. Or sweet. Daring. Luxurious. It was never the same old thing. And it had always been whatever Franci needed at the time.

He had probably the nicest butt she’d ever seen, and some unattractive scratches on his back. There was also the perfect imprint of a small canine mouth right on his Achilles tendon. She shivered again. Oh, boy, she thought. I have really screwed this up. Now everything is about ten times more complicated.

She remembered a time she’d been so grateful to meet a man with whom she shared that kind of powerful chemistry. Now she was pretty sure she was cursed.

She turned the picture of her with Rosie facedown on the bureau before leaving the room.

She’d have to get him up, have a little talk with him before she went to fetch Rosie. Franci’s nerves were getting the best of her so she tried to keep busy, first feeding Harry on the patio, then coming back indoors to brew coffee in the kitchen. When it was ready she sat with her coffee and thought, I should probably get checked for STDs. Then she thought about the talk she was about to have with Sean—it would be quick and to the point. It was obvious a child lived here. If he hadn’t noticed Rosie’s picture in her bedroom, he would never miss the lavender bedroom right next to her own. There were toys in the dining room and right outside the French doors on the patio.

As these thoughts raced around her brain she had to admit she was afraid of his reaction. If anything happened to hurt Rosie, she’d never forgive herself, and yet she dreaded the thought of never having another night like last night again in her life. Because when he found out what she’d done, he’d be furious first, then he’d be gone.

In Franci’s bed, Sean rolled over with a moan, opening his eyes. He smelled coffee. She was up ahead of him. His very next thought was that maybe he could get her back in here. Soon. If he had the strength. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced a night like that. At least four years ago, he thought with a smile. He sat up slowly. He found his jeans on the floor along with a lot of clothes. Stumbling to the bathroom, he took a look in the mirror; yep, it was him. Good—he was afraid he’d just been hallucinating again. He rinsed his mouth, peed, then pulled on his jeans.

Sean found Franci sitting at the breakfast bar behind a steaming cup of coffee, and the first thing that came to mind was that she looked like a mere girl—her cheeks rosy, lips pink and swollen from hours of kissing, her face a mixture of innocence and something that seemed almost shy, but she was a demon lover. A phenomenon. There were times during the night he felt as if he’d rubbed up against both death and eternity at the same time. He took a step; he intended to kiss that mouth before there was any talking.

“We have to talk,” she said.

Oh, Jesus, she was thinking again. If there was one area in which they were complete opposites—Franci took everything so seriously. He, on the other hand, had trouble getting serious about much of anything and it drove her crazy. He stopped where he was and just stood there, trying to get his bearings. “Can I have a cup of coffee, please? Before you get started?”

“Help yourself,” she said, tilting her head toward the pot.

He leaned against the counter and took a few sips, trying to clear his head. She took a few sips, remaining blessedly quiet. He could tell by the expression on her face, there was going to be some drama about last night. He mentally prepared himself; she was going to warn him it didn’t mean they were getting back together. She could say that all day; he wouldn’t argue with her. But he wasn’t leaving; he wasn’t letting her walk away from him again.

Franci was thinking, too. She thought maybe the best thing would be to just blurt it out—Sean, I left you because I was pregnant. I have a daughter, your daughter. I have twenty reasons why I didn’t feel I could tell you before now and I—

Just then there was a sound at the front door and Franci gasped. She knew instantly what had happened. Franci and Vivian had an understanding. Vivian would go out to get the newspaper from the end of her sidewalk, look down the block at Franci’s house and, if there was a car in the driveway, Rosie would not be allowed to go rushing home to her mother until after a long, leisurely breakfast at Grandma’s house. And a quick phone call to clear the way.

There was no car in the driveway! Sean’s car was parked across the street along the curb.

Rosie pushed the door open, all grins and bouncing red curls. “Mama, we watched a scary moobie and ate pizza on Grandma’s good couch!” She ran to Franci, her coat not even buttoned, and Franci reached for her. Rosie threw her arms around Franci’s neck and Franci lifted her up, hugging her fiercely, rocking her back and forth. Once she had her daughter in her arms, she wasn’t afraid anymore. It was that way with Rosie and Franci—little else in the world really mattered.

“Morning, cupcake,” Franci said. “You didn’t let Grandma sleep in, did you?”