Page 54 of Chasing the Dream

He pointed at some cave-like indentions built into the rocky cliffs. “That’s where we’re headed.”

Just then, a brisk wind kicked up, and Morgan hugged herself. She’d worn a hoodie over a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of exercise pants, but the air up there was colder than she’d anticipated.

“You cold?”

“A little bit.”

“Here. Take this.”

He unzipped his sweatshirt, removed it, and held it out to her.

“But then you’ll get cold.”

“You need it more than I do.”

He helped her into it and then zipped it up, almost like she was a child. His body heat was still trapped within the material, and she sighed as it cocooned her in warmth. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He smiled at her like he enjoyed seeing her in his shirt. She was probably just imagining it, though. She’d had a very active imagination lately, including last night, when she’d lain in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about him in the adjoining room.

“C’mon, you two. We still have a way to go,” Maria said, leading the way down the trail.

“Just wait until we have to walk back up,” Gabe said from behind Morgan. “You’ll probably start stripping off your clothes by then.”

Morgan kept her eyes pinned to Maria’s back and didn’t say a word, but her face flushed. Then the memory of last night’s fantasy came rushing in…

She finally gave up trying to sleep and tiptoed downstairs, thinking she would pour herself a glass of milk. The house was dark, and she assumed everyone was sound asleep, but just as she was bending into the refrigerator, the kitchen floor creaked, and she popped her head up.

“It’s just me,” Gabe said quietly.

“Oh. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I was in the living room when I heard you come downstairs.”

“What were you doing in there?”

“Trying to sleep. What are you doing down here?”

“Getting something to drink.” She pulled out the milk carton and placed it on the counter as he reached into a cupboard and took out two glasses. While his back was turned, she realized what he was wearing, or more accurately, what he wasn’t.

He wore a loose-fitting pair of boxer shorts and no shirt. Her gaze roamed over his broad shoulders, muscular back, trim waist, tight buns, and all the way down to his perfect feet. She averted her eyes right before he turned around and set the glasses on the counter.

“I’ll pour,” he said.

He leaned in to pick up the milk carton, and she caught a whiff of his warm, masculine scent. Suddenly she shivered, realizing how chilly it was and how little she had on.

“Cold?”

She nodded.

“I’d offer you my shirt, but I’m not wearing one.”

“I noticed.”

He smiled and then poured them each a tall glass of milk. He replaced the carton, picked up both glasses, and motioned for her to follow him.

He led her into the living room, set the glasses down on the coffee table, and plunked down on the couch.

She stood there for a moment, thinking how dangerous this was. It was dark and quiet, and they were both barely dressed. The smart thing to do would have been to pick up her glass and go back upstairs. But this was her fantasy, so instead, she sat down beside him.