Crazy in Love by Kristin Miller Page A

off the couch and disposed of the condom as she wrapped herself in her robe and disappeared upstairs. For a long while, Cole wasn’t sure she’d come back down, and a pang of loneliness struck him, which was damn odd. When she finally trotted down the stairs, she swept into the kitchen without one glance his direction.
    Not what he’d expected.
    “Rachael?” he strode through the dining room without bothering to cover himself. “You okay?”
    “Yeah.” She filled a glass of ice water. “Why wouldn’t I be? Here.”
    He eyed the glass. “Don’t you want some?”
    “Nah, I’m good.”
    He stared, and tightened the slack in his jaw. Rachael may’ve tried to play up the shy vibe, but she was a vixen in the sack. Beyond that, the woman was a saint, caring for others over herself. Every one in town loved her—he was beginning to see why—and he hadn’t heard a bad word whispered behind her back. She was naturally beautiful unlike the plastic groupies who tried to mob him at every tour stop. She was stable. Kind and nurturing with a stubborn streak that would keep a relationship interesting and vibrant.
    She could have anyone she wanted…
    “What in the world are you doing with me?” he asked.
    She handed him the water. “Screwing your brains out, apparently.”
    “Well you did a damn fine job.” He drank until the glass was dry, but he was still thirsty. Same thing could be said for his thirst for the woman standing in front of him. “I can’t collect my thoughts.”
    She did a little bow. “Then my job here is done.”
    “I like it,” he said, pinching the collar of her robe. “It’s sexy.”
    “This?” As she glanced down, the lapels parted, revealing the plumpness of her breasts. “Are you serious?”
    He bit his lip, imaging all the things they could do with the robe tie.
    “If that’s the case, I think I really did screw your brains out.” She giggled. “This thing is ancient.”
    He tugged on the tie at her waist and hauled her against him. “Why don’t we go back into the living room and you can tell me all about it.”
    She stiffened in his arms. He could almost hear her thoughts racing.
    “Don’t you want to call it a night?” she said. “So we don’t confuse what this really is?”
    “And what is that?” He kept her bent against him. If he let go of her now, he might not get to touch her again.
    She swallowed hard and her gaze dropped to his chest. “A one night stand.”
    Using two fingers, he tiled her head so she could peer through the kitchen window over his table. High overhead, the moon shone brightly.
    “Unless I’m mistaken,” he said, “the night’s not over yet.”
    She met his gaze and smiled, warming his chest.
    “Okay.” She dropped her robe to the floor. “Close your eyes and count to ten. I’m going to hide somewhere in the inn. If you can find me, you can have me.”
    Hell yeah.
    As he closed his eyes, the pattering of her feet echoed into the dining room. He chanced one eye and caught sight of her glorious backside as she darted up the stairs.
    Oh, he’d find her all right. And when he caught her, he wouldn’t let go until dawn.

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    With a groan, Rachael rolled over and checked the time.
    Nine o’clock.
    She flopped back onto her pillow and covered her eyes with her hands. “I should make breakfast.”
    “You should stay right where you are.” Cole’s breath fanned over her neck, bringing back the chills he’d sparked all night long.
    “But I always make breakfast.”
    He danced his fingers over her bare stomach. “Not this morning.”
    She stared at him out of the corner of her eye. His dark hair was a mess, sticking up every-which-way. His eyes were heavy-lidded in a groggy, I’m-going-to-screw-you-until-you-can’t-walk kind of way.
    “Are you always this convincing?” she asked, rolling over to face him.
    He shrugged. “Usually.”
    “I can’t get used to this, you know. I have guests checking in on