Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(13)

Her husband set her on the worn carpet, and his hands delved into her hair, angling her mouth toward his. Their kiss was long. Passionate. “I need a shower,” he muttered impatiently when it was over. “Wait right here.”

“Okay,” she murmured, eyes closed, still consumed by his kiss.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Justine opened her eyes and gazed into his. Seth was stripping off his coat and had started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. “I’m starving,” she told him, but they both knew she wasn’t talking about food.

“Oh, Jussie, me too.”

He was the only person in the world who dared to call her that.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said. He rapidly discarded his clothes, sitting on the far edge of the bed to remove his boots. He stood before her unzipping his pants. Even in his rush, he took time to drape his clothes over a chair. Then he stalked naked into the bathroom.

The shower had to be the fastest one on record. Justine had just slipped out of her shoes and pulled the sweater over her head. She’d started to unbutton her blouse when he returned. The intense look in his eyes stopped her, and her fingers froze on the last button. It was ridiculous to feel so shy with him. They were married and had already spent one glorious weekend together as husband and wife. But that had been weeks earlier and already seemed as distant as a dream.

Ever sensitive to her moods, Seth seemed to know her thoughts, to sense her apprehensions. With a tenderness that made her weak in the knees, he gently drew her to him. His mouth was warm and moist and there didn’t seem to be any part of her that he didn’t want to kiss. Soon her blouse was on the bed next to her sweater.

Their kisses appeared to have the same knee-weakening effect on him because he sank to the bed and wrapped his arms about her waist. He kissed her belly, then reached up and released her bra, freeing her br**sts. He moaned and she lowered her mouth to meet his.

Not long afterward, he urged her onto the bed with him and they were caught in a sensual tumult that lasted until Justine was breathless and spent. Wrapped in her husband’s embrace with only a sheet covering their legs, she rested her head on his chest, one arm flung about his waist.

Half inclined, his back against the headboard, Seth ran his hand along the length of her hair. Justine had closed her eyes, but not because she was sleepy. These moments needed to be savored, especially if they had to last her another few weeks.

“I don’t know what brought you here,” Seth whispered. “But whatever it is, I’m grateful.”

“I had to know,” she said, her voice more breath than sound. “I had to ask if you were sorry we got married.”

“No.” He was adamant. Tilting her chin up, he studied her eyes. “Are you?”

Her smile developed slowly. Feeling deliciously relaxed and sated, she had no problem giving him the answer he wanted. “I’m so in love with you it’s driving me crazy. I want us to be together, Seth. I hate having you so far from home.”

“It’s been hard on me, too,” Seth told her, his hand continuing its soothing motion. “I’ve always loved fishing, but my heart’s been with you from the moment I left.”

Justine stroked his shoulder, delighting in the smooth skin there. “I didn’t tell anyone at home what I was doing. I knew if I told my mother or grandmother I was flying up to find you, they’d tell me it was impossible, that I was taking too big a chance.”

“You’ve always had an incredible sense of timing,” Seth teased.

“I do, don’t I?” She rubbed her cheek against the hard muscles of his chest, loving the feel, the sight, the scent of this man. She eased her leg over his.

“When do you have to leave?” he asked.

“Late Sunday afternoon.”

His hands were in her hair again. “In that case, we’d better make up for lost time, don’t you think?”

Justine was in full agreement.

Grace woke early Monday morning, feeling more contented than she had in a long while. Buttercup, her golden retriever, who slept on the floor beside her, got to her feet, tail waving vigorously as Grace folded back the covers and climbed out of bed.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, reaching for her robe. She wondered what Dan would think if he learned that she’d replaced him with a dog.

Buttercup ambled behind Grace into the kitchen and then let herself outside, through the pet door. While the dog did her business, Grace brewed a small pot of coffee. Humming softly to herself, she showered and chose a red plaid blouse and jean jumper to wear to the library. She slid her feet into a pair of matching red shoes, and then popped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster for breakfast.

When it was time to leave, Buttercup followed her to the car. Grace rubbed her companion’s ears, grateful that her dog would be waiting for her when she returned.

Buttercup was the perfect housemate: loving, obedient, reliable. She’d return to the kitchen through her dog door as soon as Grace left. And then, when Grace got home, Buttercup would come out to greet her again.

The sun was out, but rain was forecast for the afternoon. Grace loved the autumn months; she remembered that Dan used to feel the same way. Having worked as a logger most of his career, he’d always been at home in the woods. Only in recent years, with much of the forest land closed to lumbering, had Dan taken a job with a local tree service. He’d never complained, but she knew he’d hated it and longed to return to the woods.