He drew back and she opened her eyes. There was fire in his expression—threatening, exciting, and downright primal. In sharp contrast, the rise and fall of his chest remained measured and controlled. But just barely. He was holding on to control by a thread. And if she had scissors, she’d have shredded his resolve along with his shirt.
Eric relaxed his hold on her wrist, but he didn’t let go. It was almost as if he knew she was thinking about undoing the buttons and stripping off the fabric. The man who’d spelled out what he wanted didn’t belong in button-down business clothes.
“I want to touch you, Georgia, but I can’t.” He released her, pushing away and rising to his feet. “It’s not right.”
“Are you sure?” she challenged. “Because it feels more than right.”
Eric turned away, scooped up the bows, and headed for the four-wheelers. “We should head home.”
Georgia nodded. But she didn’t move. Right or wrong, she didn’t want to go back, only forward.
Chapter Six
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Eric went from dead asleep to awake in an instant, a skill that came with having a toddler in the house. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he heard the door creak.
Georgia. Her name, the memory of her lips touching his, her question—Are you sure?—was front and center in his mind. He’d gone to bed thinking about her, his body still reeling from that simple kiss. He wanted her, had for years, and he couldn’t flip a switch and turn it off, even if that was the right thing to do.
“Uncle Eric?”
Nate’s soft voice cut through the darkness, pushing aside all thoughts of the little boy’s nanny. Eric tossed off the covers, walked over where his nephew stood by the door, and crouched in front of Nate. “What’s up, buddy?”
“My room is dark.” His nephew wrapped his arms tight around Eric’s neck. “And there’s a bear.”
“The bear is back?” Eric stood, lifting Nate with him, and headed for the hall. This wasn’t the first time Nate’s nighttime fears, which often masqueraded as bears, had woken him. But in the past, his nephew had stayed in his room, crying. The sound carried through the monitor, and Eric went in to comfort his nephew. Always. But tonight, Nate had sought him out.
“He is in your room?” Eric asked.
He felt Nate nod.
“OK, buddy. Let’s check it out.” Eric carried Nate up the stairs to the study he’d converted into a child’s bedroom. In the corner, the frog nightlight cast a pale green glow over the blue walls decorated with train stickers.
“Where’d you see this bear?”
“Over there.” Nate pointed to the bookcase. “And there.” His finger moved to the child-size table. He spoke with absolute certainty. Eric nodded, knowing words would not be enough to convince his nephew the room was bear-free. He had to prove it. He gently laid Nate down in his toddler bed and pretended to search.
“The bear’s gone, buddy.” Eric knelt beside Nate’s bed, checking to make sure his nephew still had his stuffed frog.
“Stay with me?” A little hand reached out from beneath the blankets and grabbed his larger one. “The bears might come back. But not if you’re here.”
The words hit Eric square in the chest. This little boy needed him. Tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of his life. Eric didn’t have the luxury of living in the moment with Georgia. Kissing her, touching her, was more than a question of right or wrong. Hearing those words, he was sure of one thing: he couldn’t risk inconsistency in Nate’s life.
“I’ll stay.”
Holding his nephew’s hand, Eric stretched out on the floor beside the small bed and closed his eyes.
“Thank you, Uncle Eric,” Nate murmured. Judging from his voice, his nephew was on the edge of sleep. “I’m not scared anymore.”
Eric gave Nate’s hand a light squeeze. “Anytime, buddy. I’ll keep watch for the bears tonight. I promise.”
And he’d do the same tomorrow.
Lying in the dark, his thoughts drifted back to Georgia. He pictured her standing with her bow drawn, poised to hit her target. She was an irresistible blend of power and beauty, so damn determined.
Are you sure?
Those words, the challenge in her voice, continued to haunt him. Because as much as he knew he should, he couldn’t let her go.
ERIC WOKE TO sunlight pouring in the windows. His back ached from lying on the hardwood floor for most of the night, and he’d lost feeling in his left hand due to the fact that he’d held it up, clasped to his nephew’s, for hours. Sitting up, he looked down at the still-sleeping Nate in his small bed. The kid looked so damn content, as if everything was all right in his world because Eric had stayed to protect him from the bears that roamed the house after dark. Eric smiled. Maybe Georgia was right. Maybe he was on his way to being a good father figure for the kid.
“Hey, buddy.” Eric withdrew his hand from Nate’s and reached up to brush the hair out of the little boy’s face. “Time to rise and shine. I think I smell breakfast downstairs.”
Nate blinked. “What day is it?”
“Saturday.” Eric pushed up off the floor. “And you know what that means, don’t you?”
“Pancakes!” Nate bounced out of bed, going from sleep to bursting with excitement in an instant.
“Yup,” Eric said. “I’m going to get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Nate was out the door in a flash. Eric followed, pausing at the top of the stairs. He waited until he heard Georgia greet Nate in the kitchen before he took the steps two at a time to his room. By the time he entered the kitchen, the pancakes and bacon were on the table. Georgia stood by the coffeemaker, pouring two cups. She wore her usual jeans and T-shirt, her feet bare as she moved swiftly and efficiently around his kitchen.
“Good morning,” he said.
Georgia turned and smiled at him, holding a full mug. “Just in time. Here’s your coffee.”
“Thanks.” He took the cup, careful not to brush her fingers, and sat across from Nate. He felt as if last night had turned his world on its axis, forcing him to map out, in graphic detail, what he wanted—and then walk away. He’d chosen the correct path, but hell, seeing Georgia, it didn’t feel right.
She stood over his nephew’s chair holding the maple syrup. “You’re on syrup restriction,” Georgia said firmly as she poured a modest serving on top of Nate’s pancakes. “Your breakfast should not be swimming in a pool of sugar.”
“And you”—she turned to Eric—”are on bacon restriction.”
Eric set his coffee down on the table and glanced at the modest serving of bacon, then up at Nate. “She’s bossy today.”
The little boy didn’t look up from his plate. “Because she’s a solider. Soldiers are bossy.”
“She told you that?” Eric reached for the syrup, following Georgia’s movements out of the corner of his eye.
Nate nodded. “When I grow up, I want to be bossy too. But not a solider.”
Georgia set her mug and plate down beside Nate. “He’s going to be the boss of the trains,” she said. “Right, Nate?”
“Uh-huh. Uncle Eric,” Nate said, pushing his empty plate away, “am I still going to Grandma’s house tonight?”
“If you want to,” Eric said. His mother had asked for monthly sleepovers with her grandson, but he never pushed Nate to go. Eric knew firsthand how fickle his mother’s attentions could be, and he didn’t want that hurt to touch Nate. But he couldn’t flat out refuse to let Nate see her when she lived only an hour away. The kid didn’t have much family left. “I can drive you over there today.”