The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

breakup.” He sent a knowing look over one bare shoulder. “I’m guessing it was and that it was recent.”

      Her neck and face began to glow with a blush he would never see, thank God. “What on earth would make you ask something like that out of the blue?” And, despite her affront, she had to know. “What makes you think I had a breakup?”

      “Your attitude. My experience.”

      “With women?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Well, sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Phil, but I don’t have time to date.”

      “Now that is a problem.”

      “What that is, Mr. Harrison, is none of your business.”

      He sauntered back, the towel slipping more with each step. He sipped and evaluated her again until that blush had devoured her entire body and she sat up straighter, defiant.

      “Is that another one of your tactics? Standing over people, trying to make them feel small while you make yourself feel big.”

      She imagined a significant portion just below the knot in his towel jumped as if to answer her at the same time he exhaled. “So it was bad.”

      Reflex said to laugh, tell him to take his brandy and questions someplace else. But this was his house. And, damn it, he was right. Bad pretty much summed up the end of her last relationship. She slumped into the pillows.

      “He was kind and considerate and a terrific listener. He also didn’t like kids.”

      His head went back. “You’d gotten that far?”

      “He hadn’t proposed, if that’s what you mean. But I think it says a lot about a person if the mere mention of children makes them shudder.”

      “At the risk of defending the guilty, men can have a slow uptake on that particular subject.”

      “And why is that?” She really wanted to know.

      “Because if we go all gooey at the mention of children, some women might see that as a sign we want to…want to—”

      “To commit?”

      “Yeah. That.” He nodded at the covers. “Mind if I join you? Of course, I’ll get rid of the towel first.”

      Her breath caught but he was only teasing again. “Translation being you’ll change into something more appropriate.”

      He headed out. “That, too.”

      A moment later, rattling came from the kitchen then a stream of light clicked on—a flashlight. Its arc waved once over the room before fading into another area.

      Relaxing, Trinity snuggled into her makeshift bed, eternally grateful for the fire’s light as well as its warmth. With the electricity down, the radiator would be out, too, unless it was powered by gas like the stove. Of course, there was always a possibility of sharing body heat.

      As a pulse deep inside her kicked off, she scolded herself and snuggled down more.

      Don’t even consider it.

      When Zack returned, he wore drawstring pants and a loose fitting T-shirt, most likely found in the laundry room. She’d seen a basket of clean clothes sitting on the counter when she’d bathed the baby earlier.

      “I checked around outside,” he said. “Snow’s pretty deep.”

      “And still falling?”

      “It’s let up some, but this is not a night to be out. Hopefully by tomorrow sometime, the skies will be clear and the electricity will be back on. In the meantime, the stove, radiator and water are powered by gas, so we shouldn’t freeze, and the baby’s bottles and warm baths are covered.” He looked into the fire. “The woman from Child Services called just before the lights went out.”

      Zack explained that Ms. Cassidy had assured him she would be out to take care of the baby issue as soon as possible. Trinity told herself she ought to be relieved. She could get on with her life. Get back to New York. But she couldn’t help wondering about that baby’s future, immediate as well as long-term. Where were her parents?

      Lowering beside her, Zack grabbed a spare quilt and spread it over his legs and around his ribs at the same time he visibly shivered.

      “It’s freakin’ freezing out there,” he said. “And black. I can’t remember the last time the lights went out.”

      “It’s annoying,” she admitted.

      The child inside her whispered, And just a little scary.

      He seemed to read her mind. “Could be the perfect time to share some ghost stories.”

      The look she sent was pained. “I don’t think so.”

      “I remember when I was perhaps ten,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard, “Dad took his usual few days off from being stuck behind his desk and the family came out here to Denver, but our regular chalet was double booked. The only place available was a run-down building that had once been a barn.” His voice lowered. “Or so the story goes.”

      “I don’t believe in ghosts, if that’s where you’re headed.”

      “Neither did I. Until that night.”

      Huffing, she pulled the covers higher. “You are so not the type to believe in things that go bump in the night.”

      “Are you?”

      “Not the supernatural kind.”

      She caught his curious look and, knowing she’d said too much, she diverted the conversation. Might as well hear his story.

      “So, you were all staying in an old barn.”

      “That had been renovated decades before to include a kitchen, living room, bedrooms in the loft. The electricity didn’t go off like here tonight,” he said, picking up the thread. “But only a handful of lightbulbs worked. The fireplace was covered in cobwebs. The walls and roof creaked enough to have my sister biting her nails. I think that’s where it began.”

      “Your belief in the other side?”

      “No. Sienna’s gnawing at her fingers. Still does it to this day.” Leaning back, he latched his own fingers behind his head and those delectable biceps bulged. “Anyway, the light in the boys’ bedroom blew.”

      “How many brothers do you have?”

      “Three. Mason, Dylan and Thomas.” He pulled a mock-serious face. “We weren’t scared, you understand.”

      She suppressed a grin. “Oh, I understand.”

      “But the wind was blowing like tonight, and when that light-bulb exploded, we all happened to need a glass of water at the same time. Thomas, the youngest, shot out the room first. The rest of us followed on his heels. Our parents were sitting in the musty living room on couches that needed condemning decades before. My father was fuming, vowing to sue whoever botched our reservation, which he later did. He said if a good enough gust came along, the whole place would fly away.”

      “Where was your sister?”

      “Sienna was already snuggled up on my mother’s lap. She’s the baby. Always will be.”

      Grinning, Trinity imagined a cutie with pigtails and stubby nails who relentlessly teased her brothers and got away with it.

      “So you spent the night together in the same room,” she said, “set up all cozy before a fire like we are now.”

      “That’s right. Except…” His hands dropped from cradling the back of his head and he angled more toward her. “Around midnight, the noises began.”

      “What noises?”

      “Distant. Indistinct. But they