Free Seven Days to Forever by Ingrid Weaver Page B

me?”
    There was an awkward silence. “Sorry, that was kind of sudden,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I dated, so I guess I’m out of practice.”
    Abbie knew that Bradley’s parents were recently divorced. They shared joint custody of their child, so she had met both Peter and Beth Hedgeworth when it had been their turn to pick up Bradley from school. They were both likable people. But Abbie had never regarded Peter as a potential date.
    Actually, she’d never thought much about him. Unlike his lively son, he was on the quiet side. He dressed in tasteful suits and wore shoes that always appeared freshly polished. She couldn’t picture the color of his hair or his eyes, but his features were…nice. Not handsome or memorable, just nice. Like vanilla custard made with skim milk.
    She realized she’d been silent too long. The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. “Mr. Hedgeworth…”
    “Please, call me Peter.”
    “All right. Peter.”
    “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Abbie. I’d like to get to know you better, and I thought a quiet dinner with us would be a good way to start.”
    “With us?”
    “Yes, Bradley will be with me for the entire weekend. He’d be thrilled if you agreed.”
    She was fond of Bradley, just as she was fond of all her students. Still…“I’m really sorry, Peter,” she said. “I—I’ve been fighting off a flu bug. I’d planned to spend the weekend resting, so I wouldn’t be good company.”
    It was a cowardly way to turn down Peter’s invitation, but she didn’t want to rule out the possibility of accepting an invitation in the future. She needed more time to think about it, that’s all.
    Yet what was there to think about? He had a home in the suburbs. He already had a child. He was a nice, stable, responsible man. Wasn’t this what she wanted?
    And would she have needed time to think about it if he’d asked her yesterday, before she’d met Flynn?
    * * *
    Abbie dreamed about double-fudge sundaes that night. They were arrayed on a table in front of her, the chocolate dark and decadent, glistening with heat where it oozed over rich mounds of melting ice cream. The scent was bittersweet, a contradiction of hard and soft, hot and cold, drawing her closer with the promise of sensual delight.
    But there was a maze of tall, thick candlesticks between her and the table, and clouds of moths were singeing their wings as they fluttered around the flames.
    She moistened her lips, stirring restlessly on the bed. Oh, it had been a long, long time since she’d indulged in fudge.
    She felt someone touch her hand. She knew who it was. It was the man she’d been waiting for. He was the one who had lit the candles, so he’d show her how to get past them without getting burned.
    Abbie.
    She stretched her arms over her head and rolled to her back. She couldn’t see him, but she sensed his presence in his scent, his warmth, the tingle of awareness that she felt whenever he was near. She made a low noise in her throat. She was hungry. It really had been a long time.
    Abbie, wake up.
    She felt the dream receding, but she didn’t want it to end yet. She reached for her pillow and pulled it to her chest. It was oddly heavy. It smelled like an April sunrise. Like Flynn.
    She smiled and rubbed against him. Her nipples tightened at the contact, hardening into firm points. Her palms skimmed over wide shoulders and trailed down muscles as solid as brick. She curled her fingers around his arms. Through the fabric of his sleeves she could feel his tension. Could he feel hers? Flattening her hands over his back, she pulled him closer.
    “Abbie, please.”
    Something was wrong. This dream was becoming too real. She fought the lethargy that tugged at her, and strained to open her eyes.
    A palm settled over her mouth.
    She came awake with her heart pounding. She drew in her breath and tasted a mixture of soap and masculine skin. Someone was lying on top of her, crushing her