Sugar Shack (8 page)

He nodded.

“Luke, that thing’s a dinosaur!”

“
I only use it for invoices and inventory.”

She groaned.
“And no Internet at all?”

“
Nope.”

“
So you don’t sell your product online? Mackenzie Maple Farms doesn’t have a website?”

“
Nope.”

She made a face.
“Yikes.”

“
You’re not allowed to lecture me. You were always the hip, high-tech half of us. I’m just a simple maple farm boy, remember?”

Sighing, she resigned herself to biting her tongue.
“Do you have a printer?”

“
Yes.”

A sigh of relief left her lungs.

“But it needs a new cartridge.”

Her head fell forward.

“But,” he amended, snapping his fingers. “Dad has an old Remington if you want to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“
You mean the thirty-pound doorstop you used to prop open the basement?”

“
Hey, it works. You want it or not?”

Looked like it was her only choice.
“I’ll take what I can get. I need to get this story written up and sent out ASAP. What about overnight delivery? Any chance we’ll be able to do that?”

“
Frank plows the streets every morning. You can hitch a ride with him on his way to town. His run takes him past the post office.”

“
What time does he usually drive by?”

“
About eight-thirty.”

“
Sounds good. Where’s the typewriter?”

The tips of his ears turned red.
“Still holding the basement door open.”

Cat couldn
’t stop the bubble of laughter that burst from her lips. “I should have known.”

****

It was a little after three when she stretched and pushed away from the desk. It was odd writing an article on an old typewriter. She felt like she was in a scene from
His Girl Friday
, or some other black-and-white movie from the forties. Surreal, but at the same time very cool. She actually felt like a real reporter.

She
’d gotten most of the article done. No pictures with this one—at least no recent ones. They could use stock photography. Who didn’t have pictures of New England in winter?

Luke found her in the makeshift office she
’d made out of the kitchen table nearest the hearth.

“
Need a break?” he asked, popping his snow-dusted blond head inside the back door.

Butterflies stirred to life in her tummy.
“What did you have in mind?”

His grin lit the room.
“I’m trying to be a good boy.”

She pouted.
“But you’re so much more fun when you’re naughty.”

A deep, sexy groan resonated from his throat.
“Damn, Cat. The temperature out here is below zero, but just a few simple words from you and I’m hard.”

She stood and sashayed over to him.
“Are you complaining?” she asked, her voice throaty with need.

Luke
’s lids closed over his smoldering brown eyes. “Please,” he said, his jaw clenching. “Just meet me in the barn.”

Cat watched him hurry back into the blizzard outside. It took her a minute to drag her eyes away from him and put on her coat and boots.

Blowing flakes clung to her lashes and tried to hide in her hair, but she pulled the coat’s hood down as she walked outside. Her feet sank in the deep drifts concealing the driveway. Instinctively, she headed for the barn.

The smell of hay hit her as soon as she closed the big door behind her. A smile spread across her face as she again remembered the peasant/soldier game they
had played one warm afternoon, years ago. She walked farther into the barn, lowering her hood. As she did, straws of hay floated down and landed in her hair. She looked up and saw Luke grinning from the loft.

“
Hello,
fräulein,” he said.

She laughed.
“Ouch. Your German accent is atrocious, sweetie.”

He chuckled.
“Good, because I’m supposed to be an American soldier.”

“
Am I supposed to be German?”

“
Austrian.” He waggled his brows. “Always had a thing for the cute gals in
The Sound of Music
.”

She hurried up the ladder to the loft where Luke had spread a flannel blanket across the loose hay. The electric heater whirred above them. Cat had always loved this barn, which was kept cool in the summer and warm in winter.

“Have a seat, sexy Austrian peasant.”

She chuckled.
“Ya. I vill. Ya.”

Luke
’s expression soured. “Wow, you suck at that accent, too.”

Cat shrugged out of her coat and threw it at him.
“Fine. Let’s pretend that we’re really speaking in our native tongue. Maybe we have subtitles running below us.”

He knocked away the jacket and faked a gasp.
“Are you implying we’re making a porn movie?”

Laughing, she fell on top of him.
“Vun can only hope, ya?”

Their lips met in a frantic kiss. Luke slid his hands beneath her sweater and yanked upward, breaking the kiss briefly to pull it over her head. His fingers nimbly slipped
between them, unlatching the front hook of her lace bra. With a flick of his finger, her bra released, spilling her breasts. The cold caressed her naked skin, the icy fingers of winter playing with her nipples until they were painfully erect.

Luke reached down and unsnapped her jeans, rolling her onto her back as he pulled off her boots first, followed quickly by the denim. He took his time with her lacy pink panties, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and slowly urging them down her thighs, over her knees, past her ankles.

The chill licked at her exposed skin, exciting her more with each shiver that ran up her spine. Luke pulled a picnic basket from behind him. He lifted a can of whipped cream out and slowly parted her legs at the knees.

“
Oh, sir! Vat are you going to do vis dat?” she asked in mock dismay, her accent even worse than before.

He knelt between her open legs and grinned as he shook the can, popping the top off. Aiming it at her bare pussy, he sprayed enough fluffy cream to cover the entire shaved area.
“The better to eat you with, my sweet,” he murmured, and dove in.

As his tongue lapped through the whipped cream covering her mound, he lifted her thighs and rested them over his shoulders. The position exposed her pussy fully to his mouth and he took full advantage, eating through the sweet cream until he found her sensitive clit.

She moaned, her hands clenching in his thick blond hair. “Mmmm.” She bit her bottom lip as he lavished delightful attention on her cunt.

He grabbed her legs behind her knees and pushed them further apart as he rocked her hips up to give him better access. When his tongue delved and flicked deep inside her, she trembled.
“Jesus, Luke. Yesssss.” Her head thrashed from side to side as his tongue dipped into her again, lapping and thrusting. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pushing his face down until she could feel his entire lower jaw working as he ate her out. It was the sexiest thing she’d experienced in a very long time.

He pulled back and blew across her pussy. His hot breath combined with the chilly air raised her excitement to a level she
’d never reached. Before she had a chance to comprehend it, Luke dove back in and licked her deep, then drew her clit into his mouth and gently sucked.

Cat couldn
’t breathe. She was transported to another place. Heat drizzled through her veins like warm molasses. The more he suckled, the more her body flowed to this ethereal place of his making. However, when he pulled her into his mouth and hummed softly, the vibrations he created against her clit sent her senses reeling. Liquid heat rushed to her pussy. She cried out, arching against his provocative mouth. “Yeah, suck it, baby. Lick that sweet cunt. God, yes. Yessssssss.”

She jerked, pumping against him until release came. Like a tidal wave it crashed over her, and she swam with it all the way to heaven. With every shiver, he sucked her, making it that much more enjoyable. She was whimpering by the time the spasms subsided.

Chapter Nine

Later that afternoon, after they’d both caught their breath and the world righted itself again, they went back inside the house. The flurries had started in earnest again and Luke went to check the generator in the basement as Cat took a shower. He grinned. She was a sticky, sweet mess, and he loved every second of pleasuring her.

He added a little more gas to the generator and headed out of the cellar. On the floor was a typewriter-shaped spot where the Remington had sat for so many years, holding the door ajar. He grabbed a box and set it on the spot to keep the door from closing and sticking. Stupid door. They should have had it replaced years ago.

Bounding up the stairs, he thought about the workout the old typewriter had gotten this afternoon. And by a real live reporter, no less. He smiled as he closed the door to the stairwell and wandered to the kitchen. On the table lay various papers. One stack had writing on them, another had partial paragraphs, and a few papers lay crumpled to one side. He found one still in the typewriter. Leaning over, he read what Cat had written.

The smile on his face melted into a frown as he read, and finally he yanked it out of the roller entirely. He scanned it once more before he sat down at the table, a decade
’s worth of insecurities coming back to haunt him. He’d wanted so badly to believe she had changed, but reading this...Luke looked down at the paper.

It trembled in his hand.

****

Catherine dried off, feeling delightfully satisfied from Luke
’s afternoon picnic. Goosebumps skittered across her flesh as she imagined his head between her thighs. She moaned and closed her eyes. God, what that man did to her was positively sinful. She shivered with excitement.

Throwing on her clothes, she rushed to be with him again. Funny how she looked forward to laughing, kissing, talking—everything with him. The years apart seemed to dissolve into seconds when they were together. Maybe if they gave it a shot, they could actually make it work between them. Maybe Luke had finally forgiven the impetuous, immature girl that had flown off so long ago. She kept telling him she
’d changed...maybe he was finished doubting her. Smiling, she walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him from behind, feeling closer to him than ever before. “Hey, Sexy,” she said, kissing his temple.

He didn
’t respond. Didn’t try to pull her into an embrace or even return the simple hug. Didn’t even say a word of greeting. She stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

He uncurled his fingers from around the now-crumpled paper and handed it to her.
“I read some of the article you’re working on.”

“
Okay...” she drawled, still not seeing the problem.

He turned toward her, his eyes the shade of smoldering wood.
“Do you find all this funny, Catherine?”

Uh oh, he was calling her Catherine. Not a good sign.
“What are you talking about, Luke?”

He stood and waved the paper in front of her.
“This. You paint us as country bumpkins who are lucky to know what the hell indoor plumbing is. You make it sound like we’re an inbred bunch who stick to our farms and don’t mingle well with outsiders.” The wadded paper flew across the room. “Damn it, you even had to make fun of our lack of Internet. If we’re so ass-backwards, what did you ever see in me? Am I a joke to you?” His lips curled into a snarl. “Some kind of pity fuck?”

What was going on?
“I don’t understand—”

“
Seriously, Cat. I wanted to believe you had changed. That you weren’t just after something before you moved on.” He shook his head. “But you’re still the same conniving woman you were in college, aren’t you?”

That pissed her off.
“No. I’m not that person, Luke. Why are you flinging these accusations at me? You don’t even know me anymore.”

He cocked his head to one side.
“No shit. And from the looks of it, I don’t want to get reacquainted.”

“
This is ridiculous. You read part of my article and just arbitrarily decide we’re not compatible any longer. Pardon me for pointing out that between the sheets, we’re über-compatible.” She shook her head before he could speak. “And no, it was never a pity fuck, as you so eloquently put it.”

“
Bullshit.”

“
What? What exactly is bullshit, Luke? My article? My feelings for you? What?”

Hands clasped behind his back, he began to pace.
“I don’t know, Cat. All I know is this smells an awful lot like a set-up. I haven’t figured out what the catch is yet, but I’m working on it.”