Golden Vows by Karen Toller Whittenburg Read Free Book Online Page B

She took only what she would need for the cottage and left decisions about the rest to Dane’s discretion.
    Moving day brought a sense of purpose and a lightening of her mood. Dane seemed decidedly cheerful as he carried clothing and boxes from the house to the car and then later, from the car into the cottage. He talked casually about the weather, the nice view from the deck, how he planned to get in some sailing soon. Everyday type of conversation, easy and amicable, as if there were nothing unusual about the day.
    “Beautiful day for this,” he said as he walked through the front doorway and stepped around Amanda and over the clutter in the hall to reach the stairs. The box he held firmly against his chest muffled the rest of his words, but Amanda caught the gist of them before he disappeared into the upstairs bedroom. “Beautiful day for transporting boxes,” he mumbled. “Or swimming. Or playing tennis. Or sailing. Beautiful day for sailing.”
    Amanda recognized his good-natured grumbling and ignored it as she always did, or always used to do. The qualification made a small rent in the day’s equanimity, but she forced herself to ignore that as well. Digging deeper into the disorganized box before her, she released a satisfied sigh as her fingers closed around the sack of nails she sought. With a flashlight nestled in the crook of her arm, she grasped the hammer in one hand, the nails in the other, and levered to her feet.
    Approaching the closet beneath the stairs, she carefully propped the door open and squinted into the dusty interior. A row of wooden shelves slanted along the wall in a useless forty-five-degree angle. But not for long, Amanda thought as she pushed the stepladder inside. She took a few nails from the sack and transferred them to her mouth before mounting the three-tiered ladder with hammer, flashlight, and determination.
    Juggling the shelves into place proved somewhat more difficult than she had envisioned and securing them to the wall proved impossible. When she heard Dane’s footsteps on the stairs, she opened her mouth to call him, dropped the nails, followed swiftly by the flashlight and a muttered “Damn!”
    The closet became even darker as Dane leaned against the doorframe and blocked the outside light. “Ah, just as I suspected,” he observed dryly. “A goblin under the stairs.”
    Amanda frowned down at him. “Funny. Would you mind holding the shelves at the bottom so I can nail them in place?”
    “And have you drop the hammer on my foot?” Dane shook his head and stepped inside the closet. “No, thanks. I can be of more assistance up there with you, not to mention being safe from falling objects.”
    “There isn’t room.” She finished the protest even as he made room in the narrow space. With his feet on the rung below her, his thighs cushioned the curve of her hips. His arms slipped around her on either side and he pushed the shelves into the correct position.
    For a suspended moment Amanda was breathless at the warm sensations coursing through her. It had been such a long time since he’d been this close, since her body had conformed so perfectly to his. She felt the familiar responses stir inside her and wished, for that single moment, that she could relax against him and lose herself in his strength.
    His lips were only inches from her temple and his voice was a delicious ruffling of her ebony curls. “See? There’s plenty of room, Amanda. Besides, we’ve been in closer quarters than this, haven’t we?”
    It was a needless reminder. She fairly ached with the memory. But this was the wrong place, the wrong time for remembering. “Hold that still,” she said roughly, and concentrated her energies on the closet shelf.
    “Are you sure you can see to do this?” he asked. “Do you want me to—”
    “Just hold it and keep your thumb out of the way.”
    “If you hit my thumb, we’re both in big trouble. Are you positive you can see what you’re