Distracted √

Distracted: Chapter Fifteen

While Spence walked the lakeshore, Erin opened the cabin windows letting in the fresh air. She peeked in all of the cabinets, checking out the food situation. She found some staples, such as flour and sugar, in plastic containers, and several bottles of wine. Over the sink, colorful fiesta ware lined the wall. The cabin's furnishings were so old they were back in style.

"Wow. This is Retro," Erin said aloud.

The counter sported a chrome toaster from the 1950s, a blender (Mom's penchant for Margaritas), and a waffle iron. All were old and heavy.

The aqua refrigerator hummed, still running smoothly. Inside was an open box of baking soda. Going to need some supplies, she thought.

The cabin's floor plan was simple. It had one bedroom, one bathroom, and a great room that served as a kitchen, dining and living room. When they were young, Mariah and Erin had slept on cots on the screened porch. All of the furniture was the same as she remembered except for the new sleep sofa. Mariah and Jerry had purchased it for Tom when, as he grew older, he refused to spend summer nights on the porch with Sammy and Ben.

"So is it livable?" Spence asked, stepping through the open door.

"Sure. Mariah's family uses it during the summer, so everything works. This is the first time it's been opened this year, so it's a bit musty."

"What's next?"

"I've got to go to the store and get some supplies. I guess I should make a shopping list. We should get a coffee pot, too."

She pulled a reporter's notebook from her back pocket and slid an ink pen out of its wire coils. She sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

"Here, sit down. Tell me what you want."

Spence didn't hesitate. He dived onto the couch and laid his head on her lap, curling an arm around her neck.

"Baby, you know what I want."

"No, silly," Erin said bending closer to his face. She closed her eyes anticipating the touch of his lips. "I mean from the store," she whispered.

"I know what you mean. Kiss me."

"One kiss. Then help me make a list," Erin conceded.

"One kiss it is," Spence said. His right arm pinned against the sofa, he grabbed a handful of her soft hair and pulled her head back, baring her creamy throat. With his left hand, he began unbuttoning her shirt.

"Hey, I said one kiss."

"Give me a minute. I'm getting there."

Erin turned her head and kissed his wrist, her lips against his pulse. She closed her eyes as he unclasped her bra (darn those front enclosures! Okay, maybe not) and stroked her breasts.

"Is it a kiss if it's here?" Spence asked.

"Mmmmmmaybe."

He nuzzled the cleft between her ribs and then traced a path back to her breast, his tongue hot and wet.

"Make up your mind. Quick."

"Umm, no."

"No what? No, it's not kiss, or no, you won't make up your mind?" he murmured.

"No, it's not a kiss."

Erin grabbed his ears and pulled his mouth onto her breast. She could feel the heat building between her legs. "Better stop."

"You said one kiss. I haven't kissed you yet."

Erin tried to capture his lips, but he turned his head.