Chapter Two

Margaret stretched underneath the covers, enjoying the quiet morning. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get the clock to be in focus. Eight a.m. was the latest she'd slept in years. Someone always needed something at the college, and she'd usually volunteered or been asked to cover for someone with a family.

Rascal had said they'd have breakfast at the clubhouse and then help with set-up. The first activity didn't start until noon. She could really use a cup of coffee. She and Rascal had stayed up talking until three in the morning. She could admit to herself she hadn't wanted it to end.

Their discussion on the range of topics and on their lives was massive and flowed effortlessly. When he'd glanced at the clock and said they should probably get to bed, she'd imagined telling him she wanted to sleep in his room. Instead, she'd kept her mouth shut and gone to her room after he'd had her pick a shirt from his closet.

She'd fought herself trying to not look at his bed and imagine him in it, but she'd failed. He had a king-size bed made from dark wood. A navy-blue comforter covered it. The head of his bed had pillows but wasn't covered in too many. He had a TV hanging on the wall across from it above a low dresser. He'd offered her his room since the guest bedroom didn't have an en-suite bathroom, but she turned him down. She wasn't going to torture herself sleeping underneath the comforter that carried his scent.

She threw back the covers and grabbed Rascal's bathrobe. He'd known she might be a little uncomfortable in just his shirt, so he'd offered her his robe. He looked so tough, but from all she'd experienced, he had a soft center.

She opened her door and heard Rascal moving around in the kitchen. She ducked into the bathroom off the front room because she was sure her hair was wild. She did her business, then looked in the mirror. She quickly ran her brush through her hair. It might be going gray, but it was still thick and did what she wanted. She brushed her teeth because she wasn't going to knock Rascal over with her morning breath. Once she was as presentable as she could be, she braved the kitchen.

Rascal was standing in the kitchen with only jeans on and his back to her. The majority of his back was covered with a tattoo of his club's logo. Both his arms appeared to have tattoos also, but what would she expect from a tattoo artist? For being almost seventy, Rascal, with his shirt off, didn't look that age. She walked a little closer to get a better look even though what she wanted to do was trace the details of the tattoo and feel his skin.

He turned and smiled at her. "Good morning. Are you ready for some coffee?"

"Yes, please."

He stepped closer and handed her a cup of coffee that looked remarkably similar to how she'd described her morning addiction last night. She breathed deep, catching of hint of vanilla.

"Go on. Test me and see if I got it right."

She took a sip, savoring the flavor of her favorite way to wake up.

"It's perfect. How?"

"I lucked out. It's one of the creamers we keep for the diner. I ran and borrowed some this morning."

He'd gotten up early, all so she'd have her favorite creamer when she woke up. That didn't seem like the act of a man who only wanted her for a friend.

She placed the cup on the counter. She stepped closer until her chest was brushing his. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his beard tickling her lips. At least, if he wasn't attracted to her then she could pretend it was a friend kiss.

"Thank you."

Rascal leaned closer, tunneling his hand into her hair, tilting her head.

"I was trying to be a good guy and give you time, but you let me have a little taste of your lips. I need more."

Rascal's lips touched hers as his arm tugged her close until she could feel every bit of him against her. His beard brushed her face as his lips claimed hers. His tongue tracing the seam of hers until she opened and let him in.

She trembled in his arms. His lips tasted every inch of hers, then coasted over by her ear and nibbled until she moaned. Toothpaste, coffee and man were an addictive combination.

He kissed the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. "I'd like nothing more than to take you in my bedroom and watch you catch fire in my arms, Meggie, but they know we're coming for breakfast. If we stay here, someone will interrupt us and when I finally get you underneath me, Meggie, I want time to explore every lush inch of you. Now, grab your coffee and go change your clothes before I forget my good intentions."

Rascal punctuated his words by pressing his hardened length against her. Even through the robe, she knew he was ready to make good on his promise. Margaret stared at him, wondering when she'd become Meggie to him, but she loved the name. Margaret was the college professor who the men thought was unapproachable. Meggie was the woman she was with Rascal.

"Okay. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready to head over to breakfast."

She leaned up quickly and this time pressed her lips to his, then turned and hurried to the hall bathroom. She closed the door and leaned back against it. Oh man, that man could kiss. Everything he did set her on fire, but she needed to get it under control because she had a speech to give today and a man to get to know better.