Beyond Temptation

CHAPTER EIGHT



Avery practically tip-toed passed Brom’s door on her way to and from the bathroom. She closed her door very softly and breathed a sigh of relief. She took her laptop from the settee and went to sit on the bed. Courtesy modern technology she checked email and sent a request to her physician for overnight delivery to the inn and billing for her most recent records.



Two copies.



Avery flushed hotly and covered her face with her hands. She felt almost removed from the situation. Nothing like this happened to her. Until now, she added mentally.



A civilized knock on the door, then, “Avery?” Brom.



She closed her laptop and went to answer. When she opened the door, he stood with a heavily loaded tray. “Room service?” she queried, his calm manner putting her at ease.



“Bribery,” he replied, using his booted foot to close the portal. He wore worn button fly jeans that looked old and soft with a long-sleeved navy tee. “Thought if I offered food you’d spend some time with me.”



Avery didn’t like the idea of sitting with him on the bed. Brom seemed a step ahead of her. He placed the tray on the bed only long enough to remove the throw from its end and spread it on the floor in front of the cold hearth. Then, he moved the tray and began building a fire.



She seated herself and lifted steam domes. Large platters held pastries, thinly sliced beef, soft-boiled eggs in stemmed cups with toast points for dipping, a pot of tea with two cups, cream, sugar, and baked apples. She discovered plates and utensils, and began making them each a setting. “Do you have more meetings or are you really on vacation now?”



He added kindling to the small, but cheerful flames, coaxing his creation to life. “I expect the same company I just declined to come pestering. Aside from telling them ‘no’ again, I’m on holiday.”



Avery poured them each tea, supplementing hers with cream and sugar. She cast a covert glance at her companion, noting the way the muscles in his thighs strained at the denim covering them as he squatted by the hearth. “What did you turn down?”



“An ugly proposition.” He carefully placed a few small logs and sat down to their breakfast ‘picnic’.



Something in his tone intrigued her. She held up her plate as he served. “You can’t say something like that to a writer and not explain.” Placing the laden plate on the floor in front of her crossed legs, she dug into the fragrant food.



Brom piled his plate with beef, two eggs, toast and apples. “A pharmaceutical company looking to harvest some plant in the Amazon is having trouble with the local village, specifically the governing elders and young men who consider themselves warriors like their ancestors.” He cut the beef and she caught herself staring at his big, very attractive hands.



Fixing her gaze upon her food, she asked, “What did they expect you to do about it?”



“Eliminate the opposition,” he answered quietly.



For a moment she wondered why the company officials believed Brom could persuade the men to cooperate. Then, a horrible suspicion dawned. “They wanted you to kill them?”



“They never said it, of course.” He picked up his tea. “And they’d deny any intention of the sort. But, that’s exactly what they wanted.” Sipping some of the steaming brew, he added, “I contacted what passes for the local authorities and let them know.”



Pleased he had taken the initiative to protect the innocent, she commented, “On top of a lack of morals, clearly they suck at math. Hiring one man against how many?”



“I would go operational against the number they specced. Just not under those circumstances or for those reasons.” He sliced a bite of beef and ate it.



Avery knew her mouth fell open and made an effort to recover. “How many?”



“It’s not important,” he replied. “Try the baked apples.”



Curious to the point of pain, she shot back, “I don’t want apples, I want numbers.”



He seemed to consider her interest. “Will I find myself discussed in a book?”



“No,” she assured quickly.



“I retrieved a kidnapped journalist from a compound outside Ar Rutbah in Iraq. Intel had the warm bodies in the three dozen range.”



“And you went in alone?” She couldn’t imagine the kind of guts and competence that demanded.



Brom flashed a jaunty smile. “They had less than cordial intentions concerning his head. Someone had to fetch him.”



“Yeah, like a platoon of marines with air support.” Outside a dog barked and a horn honked. “Did you get hurt?” Just imaging him dodging bullets made her dizzy.



He surged gracefully to his feet, put a larger log into the blaze and resumed his seat. “Not even enough to try getting sympathy from a pretty girl.”



He discussed his deadly line of work with a carefree humor that spoke volumes. Most men would use it as a giant boast. An ego trip of globe circum-navigational proportions. Brom didn’t need that reassurance of manhood or virility. That struck her as incredibly sexy. “Is it always so dangerous?”



He shook his head, dipping toast into the soft egg. “No. Once spent time as a bodyguard to a diplomat’s five-year-old daughter.” He smiled, clearly in fond recall. “Passed two weeks in tea parties, dolls, swimming in a big pool and having my hair brushed.”



Avery laughed, but could not repress a pang of something potent picturing him indulging a little girl in her childish and very feminine play. Chewing a bite of the baked apples, she considered the complexity of character required to face three dozen militants alone, and still have the ability to basically baby-sit a five-year-old for two weeks. “I bet she hated to see you go.”



“I know I missed her like hell for months.” His tone grew more serious. “Do you want kids?”



Avery drank some tea before responding. “I always thought I did. But, it just never happened.” She shrugged. “Sometimes life gives us a different path than we plan.”



“Did you plan to be a writer?” Brom poured himself a second cup of tea. The cup looked so small in his hand.



“Kind of. I had aspirations to write a big epic novel, but ended up in a different line.” She hoped he didn’t ask specifics.



“What do you write?”



She should have known her luck wouldn’t hold. “Actually, I ghost write for a very successful writer.”



“And?” He did not seem inclined to relent.



Avery blushed warmly. “Romance.”



One corner of his mouth lifted and he made a soft sound low in his throat. That burr rolled like silky smoke when he spoke. “That strikes me as a bit of an awkward fit.”



To her surprise it hit her as amusing. “Evidently I can imagine it, just couldn’t manage it in reality. But, the author’s editor believed in me enough to offer me a contract on a book I haven’t even written. I may have that epic yet.” She put down her utensils. “That’s all the damage I can do.”



He finished his food and loaded everything back onto the tray. Avery watched him carry the tray to sit it by the door and replace the throw upon the bed. When he walked back and offered his hand to pull her to her feet, she accepted, and found herself pulled into the circle of his arms.



Before she could object, his lips covered hers and he smoothed a big hand down her back, fitting her against his hard body. He tasted of cinnamon, tea and male. His tongue touched hers and it felt like a white light switched on inside her. Pleasure lit her from within. His touch made her feel safe from the world, desired, but, not threatened.



“God, darlin’”, he groaned. “What you do to me makes me humble.”



She wrapped her arms up around his neck.



He changed the angle of his head. “Yes, baby girl, kiss me.”



Avery did. Gripping handfuls of his hair and tugging him closer, she surrendered to the moment. His big hands kneaded her back and neck, roaming lower to explore her bottom. She moaned and rubbed herself against him, aggressively delving into his mouth.



The animal rumble of arousal he made in his chest caused her knees to feel unreliable. “Avery,” he murmured. His breath fanned over her cheek, warm and sweet. “I want you to trust me,” he purred, Scottish lilt a force of Nature, “and let me wake the goddess sleeping in your lovely body.”



That made her draw back from him. “I will have documentation tomorrow.”



Brom caressed her face, eyes bright, voice hushed. “Spend today with me.”



“I can’t.” Avery stepped back and attempted to collect her wits. “I have to work.”



“This evening, then.”



A knock at the door made them both turn their heads. Avery leapt ahead of him. She opened to see Carl, Mr. Mims. He handed her a type of envelope she recognized. “Thank you,” she said, a hot thrill lancing her. She opened it.



Dine with me tonight.

MdB



Avery’s heart turned a cartwheel. “I can’t, Brom.”



He walked up beside her. “Have I been kicked to the curb in favor of better company?”



Avery turned to him, replying with complete honesty. “Not better. Different.”



Brom picked up the tray, then leaned down to kiss her brow, nose and lips. “Fair enough, Avery.”



She thought of him, his generosity for hours.