He moved against her, and she felt the arousal swelling against his zipper. Knowing that he wanted her sent a heady rush of answering desire coursing through her, making her arms tighten around his neck, her body go heavy against his.
Trent ripped his mouth from hers with a gasp that sounded more like pain than passion.
It took Annie only a split second to understand what had happened. He was so much taller than she was, and he was forced to bend to kiss her. By locking her arms so tightly around him, she had put too much pressure on his back.
She released him immediately. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten…”
He took a step back into the shadows so she couldn’t see his expression. “Yeah. I’d almost forgotten, myself.”
“Why don’t we—”
“Good night, Annie. See you around.”
She’d intended to invite him in, but he was already moving away. “Trent,” she said, instinctively reaching out to him.
Without glancing back, he moved toward his truck, his back very straight, his steps carefully measured.
Frustrated by his attitude, she took a step after him. “Trent.”
His truck door slammed, cutting off her words. And then he was gone, leaving her staring at his taillights in bewilderment and frustration.
The truck was out of her sight by the time she turned and entered her house. And then she sagged against the door, her body still thrumming from his touch, her lips still aching for more of his kisses. Whatever had just happened between them had been more emotionally powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. And she had ruined it.
She groaned and covered her face with her trembling hands, wondering how she would ever face him again.
8
ANNIE APPROACHED Trent’s door warily Friday morning, having no idea what sort of mood she would find him in. Would he be angry? Distant? Surly? Or, even worse, chillingly polite?
&n
bsp; He wasn’t there.
A note was taped to the door. “Go on in. You know where to find the key.”
He had shown her where he hid his spare key several weeks earlier, but she had never used it because he’d always been there to let her in. She knew he’d left earlier this morning because he hadn’t wanted to see her.
Bone-deep weariness made her steps heavy as she carried her cleaning supplies into his house. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two the night before. She’d tossed and turned, paced and fretted, and had finally given up on sleep altogether. Wrapped in a blanket, she had watched the sun rise from the rocker Trent had given her as she mentally replayed the kisses that had turned her whole world upside down.
Never in her life had Annie considered herself even slightly psychic. But now, as she struggled with her confused emotions about Trent, she couldn’t help remembering her hesitation before knocking on his door for the very first time. She had chided herself then for her weird sensation that her life would change when she met him; now she wondered if it had been some sort of feminine intuition speaking to her that day.
Standing alone in his house, she ran a hand across the back of the rocker that was so similar to her own. The smooth surface and satiny feel of the wood reminded her of how clever and skillful Trent was with his hands. She could still feel those oh-so-clever hands on her body. She could only imagine how much pleasure they could have given her had her clumsiness not brought everything to an embarrassingly awkward end last night.
Did he really think it mattered to her that he had some physical limitations? As many concerns as she had about becoming too deeply involved with Trent, his back injury was not one of them.
She cleaned the kitchen and reminded herself that she’d been engaged to a man who had no softness, no sentiment in him. She had emerged from that debacle with her pride and self-esteem in tatters. She didn’t want to go through anything like that again—ever.
But Trent wasn’t Preston, a tiny voice reminded her.
Leaving the kitchen sparkling behind her, she moved into the bedroom. The bedclothes were unusually tangled—as if he’d spent a restless night too. She swallowed hard before stripping the bed and spreading clean sheets over the thick, firm mattress. She tried to keep her attention focused on her work, tried to think of this bed as just one of the many she stripped and changed each day, but it wasn’t easy.
This was Trent McBride’s bed.
By the time she finished cleaning and left Trent’s house, she was exhausted. And she still had a full day’s work ahead of her.
It caught her completely by surprise when she ran into Trent at the law firm late that afternoon. They arrived at almost the same time, Annie toting her cleaning supplies, Trent carrying a thick roll of what appeared to be building plans. There was an awkward moment at the entrance when neither of them seemed to know what to do or say, and then Trent reached out to open the door for her.
“Thank you,” she said.