Free A Soft Place to Fall by Barbara Bretton Page B

and white cats watched from the foot, alert to
Max's whimpering from the doorway. All Sam had to do was settle the
bundle of woman onto the mattress without enjoying himself any more
than necessary.
    The bed was piled high with clothes: jeans,
sweaters, a velvet dress the color of the midnight sky. Everything
but sheets and a blanket.
    "Work with me," he said as he tried to sit
her up at the edge of the bed. "I have to clear a spot for
you."
    She bestowed another one of those loopy
smiles on him then proceeded to slide off the bed onto the floor
where Max tried to sniff her hair.
    "She has enough trouble," Sam said, and gave
the dog a gentle push toward the living room.
    He quickly shoved the clothes to the far side
of the mattress then picked her up one more time. He told her to
stay put while he searched out some towels and blankets but the
soft thud as he left the room told him otherwise.
    "What the hell am I going to do with
you?"
    The cats' unblinking stares followed every
move he made as he placed her on the mattress, tucked a pillow
under her head, hunted around for towels and a blanket to cover
her. He tried to wrap a towel around her wet hair but she pushed
him away. It would be easier to gather mercury in your bare hands
than to convince her to stay put for more than ten seconds. He
grabbed an assortment of sweaters and a winter coat from the jumble
of garments then covered her with them. She mumbled something he
assumed wasn't thank you.
    "Don't move," he said, then laughed out loud.
As if she had any idea what he was saying.
    He stood in the doorway for a minute. Her
face was buried against the sleeve of a dark navy wool coat. Her
eyes were closed. With a little luck she was sound asleep and would
stay that way until morning. He used the opportunity to extinguish
the candles in the bathroom, pull the stopper on the tub, and put
towels down on the wet floor. Max watched him from the hallway,
tail thumping in pure enjoyment.
    The front door was a whole other problem.
He'd kicked it off its hinges and it now hung crazily in the frame.
He'd need to make a trip to a hardware store in the morning so he
could set it right again. He fit the door into the opening then
pushed a suitcase in front of it. The solution wasn't going to win
any awards but it would keep strangers out and Max and the cats in
and right now that was the most he could ask for.
    He barely had time to secure the door when he
heard another thud from the bedroom. He found her sitting naked on
the floor in the hallway – the bed took up the entire room –
looking so completely astonished that he couldn't help
laughing.
    "Here," he said, taking off his shirt and
handing it to her. "Put this on."
    She had trouble coordinating her movements so
he helped guide her arms into the proper sleeves. Her fingers
fumbled at the buttons.
    "Wrong side," he said.
    She tried again. "I'm really not this
stupid," she said, her words slightly slurred.
    He knelt down on the floor in front of her.
"Here," he said. "I'll do it for you." She smelled sweet and his
body responded fiercely to her nearness. Her fair skin was rosy
from the bath. Her curly hair drifted wild and damp across her
shoulders. Her breasts were round and full and beautiful and she
was completely at his mercy. The champagne had demolished her
defenses. It would be easy to draw one of her tightly budded
nipples between his lips and tease the tender flesh with his teeth.
She would moan softly in the back of her throat and arch her back
and he would slip his hand between her legs and feel her desire. It
would be quick and fierce and primal. She would come first, he
would see to that, and then when she was beginning her slow descent
from the pinnacle, he would let himself go and she would rise again
with him, higher and higher, until they crashed into the stars.
    He thought about flat tires, the Yankees'
batting order, the mileage between Shelter Rock Cove and every
major city in the United States while he