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A visitor at his private retreat. A woman.
A drop-dead gorgeous woman.
He stepped back inside, his dog there to greet him with a nudge of the nose and wag of the tail. Wide brown eyes seemed to ask about this new addition to their haven. Royce didn’t have an answer yet. But he would.
“Hey,” he said, “last box.”
“Sorry the weather stinks so badly.” She stood at the kitchen cabinets with the other boxes at her feet, unloading canned milk.
Naomi’s parka was long gone and...damn, she was a sight for hungry eyes in formfitting jeans with silver studs and a red fuzzy sweater that all but shouted, I’m soft—touch me. Her dark ponytail swished in a silky glide as she reached upward to slide the can in place, then ducked back down to unload a jar of granola.
Eyes off her ass.
He set the last box on one of the two kitchen chairs, cushioned with leather for comfort and the kind of chair that could be used in his office or in the living area. Everything in the space was efficient and multipurpose. “Isn’t someone going to be worried when you don’t return?”
“I texted one of my brothers while you were outside.” She wriggled her toes in thick socks, stacking cans to make room for the granola container.
Texted? “How did you manage that? The signal up here sucks.”
Sure, he could call out and email, but his equipment was top-of-the-line with a portable minisatellite dish.
“I have a really good phone,” she answered simply over her shoulder, inky-black ponytail stroking along her back in a way that made him consider what it would feel like to trace her hair’s path, then test the texture in a gentle fist.
“That’s advanced tech equipment for a delivery person.”
Stepping down, she faced him, smile bright, her full lips glistening with fresh gloss. “My family’s generous. And, um, I was helping a friend by making the delivery since they were overwhelmed with storm purchases.” She tugged at the hem of her red sweater, a slight flush staining her cheeks. “I don’t actually work for the supply shop.”
“You’re a good friend, then, to make a trip in this weather.” He still wasn’t sure why he couldn’t accept she was here to bring his supplies. It just seemed off that the store would send a woman out alone in this crazy-monstrous spring blizzard to deliver paper towels and canned goods. He should call, just to verify, which he would as soon as the supply offices reopened tomorrow...or after the storm.
A deep, shining smile plumped her cheeks, eyes dancing in the warm light. “We all have our reasons for doing things. Friendship is a treasure—and a hefty motivator.”
“True enough.” His parents and their next-door neighbors had been best friends, like family.
They’d been thrilled when Royce had started dating their friends’ daughter, the girl next door, whose father worked alongside his. His parents hadn’t been as excited when she got pregnant, since a baby would have changed his plans for a PhD. However, wedding preparations ensued...until a pipeline explosion rocked the town. His fiancée’s father died.
Then his fiancée miscarried the baby.
Before Royce could process the grief over losing his child, Carrie Lynn had broken the engagement and left. For good.
Life fell apart for him. He didn’t give himself over to emotion easily. It wasn’t in his nature. Figuring out how to recover from that loss ten years ago had been tougher than anything he’d faced in his life.
But Royce had pieced himself back together with an unwavering focus on work and a dedication to reducing the chances of a pipeline tragedy happening to any other family again. Hell, he was better off doing what he did best.
Dealing with science and facts, not emotions and feelings.
His passion for his work had cost him relationships, but damn it, he wasn’t interested in changing himself or his values for anyone.
Take him as he was. Period.
So, in reality, this woman wasn’t a threat beyond being a physical temptation.
Reassured for the moment, he stepped out of his boots, his wool socks much like hers. Except his weren’t purple.
Naomi closed the cabinet and settled in an empty chair, crossing her legs, purple-socked foot swinging. “Are you vacationing?”
“Working.” A fact that shouldn’t require elaboration.
She laughed lightly. “You don’t look like a professional ice fisherman.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you working on?” she asked, drumming her fingers on his laptop computer, his abacus key chain resting beside on the table. “Your memoirs of life in the Alaskan wilds fighting bears?”
“Nosy much?” He moved the final box of supplies to the floor and sat in the other chair, eyeing her.
“I’m just making polite conversation. Unless you’re going to cue up Netflix, we have time to kill waiting out the storm.”
Damn, she was funny and sassy as well as hot. How long was this storm supposed to last?
“I have an extensive library on my tablet. You’re welcome to browse. Make yourself comfortable over there on the sofa.”
Out of his workspace and far enough away so that he wouldn’t be breathing in the crisp scent of her, something like—he sought an intellectual answer to such an elemental scent—like the water, the ocean. Icy salt air. Did they make that into a perfume or was it just the scent of her? He focused back in on her words.
“While you work at...”
“I’m a science professor.” He tossed out his generic answer, a truth. He did give the periodic guest lecture series.
“So, you have papers to grade?” she pushed without budging from her seat.
“Hmm...” He pulled his tablet out of his computer bag and cued up the library, while making sure the rest of his data was tightly password protected.
“You’re not the chatty sort.”
“Nope.”
“You were talkative earlier, with the bear.” She toyed with her ponytail, shiny black strands gliding through her fingers.
“Adrenaline.” A chemical currently pumping through his body again as he watched her play with her hair. Was it his imagination or was she flirting?
And if she was, did he want to take her up on that offer?
Hell, yes.
She reached across the small teak table. “Is the offer for that tablet full of reading material still available?”
* * *
Three hours later, stars glinting overhead and a fire crackling in the stone hearth, Naomi curled up with a blanket and throw pillows, pretending to be engrossed in a mystery novel on the glowing tablet. She’d already read it a week ago, so if Royce asked questions, she would be able to answer. Meanwhile, she could study him and figure out how best to proceed.
Upon reflection, Naomi wasn’t so sure this plan had been her best. After receiving the investigator’s report, she’d moved quickly. Usually a strength of hers. Fast decision-making.
But given the upheaval in her family lately, she had to admit, she wasn’t at the top of her game.
She’d rushed up here without considering all the outcomes.
Gathering a look at Royce’s data would be easier said than done, and a few notes here and there would only have short-term