Free Melt by Natalie Anderson Page A

limitations—he didn’t have enough to offer any woman for long—he’d been told that more than once. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to hurt pretty Emma. Which was a total pain for him because he knew they’d burn it up together. He sighed and looked out at the bright night sky and the magnificence of the continent.
    “I have to get back to the mural.” She drained her coffee cup.
    He looked at her pale face. “You’ve been working for more than twelve hours already.”
    “I only have tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night.” She bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have done the day trip, and I should have worked later into the evenings. It always takes longer than I think it will.”
    How could she have only one more day here? And how was he going to face the next few weeks without her nearby? How had her presence become as vital to him as his own right arm?
    Hunter felt like a kid trying to hold onto a beautiful snowflake, but it was melting before his eyes.
    …
     
    Emma wanted to slow it down—to hold all the fun in her fist forever.
    For the next three hours she painted slowly, carefully. Her hand ached, but her desire to finish the mural and make it the best it could be forced her to continue.
    “Coffee break.”
    She jumped and turned as Hunter came in carrying a tray.
    “What are you doing still awake?” she asked him. Bright as it was outside, it was almost two in the morning.
    “Keeping you company.” He grinned. “I’m guessing there’s nothing I can actually paint for you, though.”
    “Not really, but thanks.”
    “You want some company?”
    “If you can help keep me awake for a while, that would be great.” She stared at the mural, her mind working over all the bits she had yet to finish.
    “Don’t stress. You’ll get it done.”
    Some artists took months on their paintings. She’d had less than two weeks—what had she been thinking? She knocked back the coffee and stepped up to the wall again. The caffeine had the desired effect and gave her a much-needed energy boost. Or maybe it was because she was aware of Hunter in the room behind her, working on some of the plaster that had her pulse thrumming. He reappeared on an hourly basis—with chocolate, water, more coffee.
    The aching pit in her belly widened every time she thought of leaving Hunter. It wasn’t fair—she’d kept her physical distance, she hadn’t slept with him. Yet the thought of saying good-bye to him still hurt—how wrong was that? Maybe she should have thrown caution to the wind and taken her fun from him.
    Just then, the man of her nightly dreams appeared again—mug in hand.
    “I can’t have any more coffee.” She shook her head.
    “No, this is a weak hot chocolate.” He handed it to her. “You need to get some sleep.”
    He was right.
    “So do you,” she answered, drinking in the rugged look of his stubbled jaw. He was more handsome than ever. And she had to go past him to get out of the building. She stepped beyond normal physical boundaries as she did—pausing to stand on tiptoe and whisper so very, very close. “Thank you.”
    “See you later.” He stepped back—away—from the kiss she would have given him. She bit down hard on her disappointed lips and quickly walked to her room.
    Emma slept for a couple of hours and then got up again, knowing she was now on the final stretch. She worked like a demon but in a deadline-induced daze, putting on the final touches—the sprinkles of gold and sparkle to the scene she’d spent so many hours on.
    Finally—almost at dinnertime—she finished. Her bones ached as she methodically cleaned her brushes and packed all her supplies. Yet despite having such little sleep in the last twenty-four hours, her heart thudded like she’d run a marathon or three, and her muscles ached. She figured it was the caffeine overload giving her this sense of urgency. There was only one person she felt driven to see.
    She found him fixing some shelving in one of the