Midwife's Mistletoe Baby. Fiona McArthur

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      Rayne’s mouth was like no other mouth she’d ever known. Hadn’t even dreamt about. Like velvet steel, smoothly tempered with a suede finish, and the crescendo was deceptively gradual as it steered them both in a sensual duel of lips and tongue and inhalation of whisky breath into a world that beckoned like a light at the end of the tunnel. She hadn’t even known there was a tunnel!

      Everything she’d imagined could be out there beckoned and promised so much more. She wanted more, desperately needed more, and lifted her hands to clasp the back of his head, revel in his thick wavy hair sliding through her fingers as she pulled him even closer.

      His hands slid down her ribs, across her belly and up under and then circling her breasts through the thin fabric of her silk overshirt. His fingers tightened in deliciously powerful appreciation then he pulled away reluctantly.

      ‘Silk? I’d hate to spoil this so I’d better stop.’

      ‘I’ll buy another one,’ she murmured against his lips.

      Rayne forced his hands to draw back. It was supposed to be a hello kiss. Holy hell, what was he doing? He’d barely spoken to the woman in ten years and his next stop was definitely lower down. They’d be naked on the floor before he realised it if he didn’t watch out. ‘Maybe we should draw a breath?’

      She sat back with a little moue of disappointment, followed by one of those delicious tip-of-the-tongue lip-checks that drove him wild. He was very tempted to throw caution to the winds, and her to the floor, and have his wicked way with the siren. Then he saw Simon’s glass of sparkling water sitting forlornly on the table and remembered his unspoken promise. Forced himself to sit back. He’d be better having a cold glass of water himself.

      ‘I’m starving!’ He wasn’t, but appealing to a woman’s need to feed a man was always a good ploy to slow the world down.

      She shrugged and he wanted to laugh out loud. Still a princess. Gloriously a princess. ‘Kitchen’s through there.’ A languid hand in vague direction. ‘I’m not much of a cook but you could make yourself something.’

      Observed her eyes skid away from his. Decided she was lying. ‘Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’

      ‘And the way to a woman’s heart is more of that hello kissing.’ She sighed and stood up. ‘But come on, I’ll feed you. And then I’m going to kiss you again before my brother comes home. You’ll owe me.’

      He did laugh at that. ‘I’ll pay what I have to pay.’ And he thought, I am not sleeping with this woman but thank God I brought condoms.

      * * *

      Maeve had lied about not being able to cook. She’d done French, Italian and Spanish culinary courses, could make anything out of nothing, and Simon’s fridge was definitely not made up of nothing. ‘Spanish omelette, French salad and garlic pizza bread?’

      ‘Hold the garlic pizza bread.’

      She grinned at him, starting to come down from the deluge of sensations that had saturated her brain. She’d planned on being admired, building her self-esteem with a safe yet sexy target, not ending up in bed with the guy. ‘Good choice.’ Heard the words and decided they applied to herself as well. It would be a good choice not to end up in bed either.

      Then set about achieving a beautifully presented light meal perfect for a world traveller just off a plane.

      ‘Oh, my.’ He glanced down at his plate in awe. ‘She cooks well.’

      ‘Only when I feel like it.’ And spun away, but he caught her wrist. Lifted it to his mouth and kissed the delicate inside skin once, twice, three times, and Maeve thought she was going to swoon. She tugged her hand free because she needed to think and she hadn’t stopped feeling since she’d seen this man. She mimicked him. ‘He kisses well.’

      He winked at her. ‘Only when he feels like it.’

      She leaned into him. ‘We’ll work on that. Eat your dinner like a good boy.’ While I get some distance, fan my face and figure out why I’m acting like he’s my chance at salvation. Or is that damnation?

      Five minutes later Rayne sat back from his empty plate. He had been hungry. Or the food was too good to possibly leave. ‘Thank you.’

      He needed a strategy of space between him and this woman. What the heck was going on to cause this onslaught of attraction between them? His own dire circumstances? The thought that she might be the last beautiful thing he would see or touch for a long time?

      And her? Well, she was vulnerable. Simon had suggested that. But vulnerable wasn’t the word he would have used. Stunning, intoxicating, black-widow dangerous?

      He stood up and put his plate in the sink. Rinsed it, like he always did because he’d been responsible for any cleaning he’d wanted done for a long time, and internally he smiled because she didn’t say, Leave that, I’ll do it, like most women would have. She leant on the doorframe and watched him do it.

      ‘Simon said you’ve just finished a relationship?’ Seemed like his subconscious wanted to get to the bottom of it because his conscious mind hadn’t been going to ask that question.

      ‘Hmm. It didn’t end well, and I’ve been a dishrag poor Simon had to put up with for the last month. You’ve no idea the lift I got when Simon said you were coming.’

      No subterfuge there. He had the feeling she didn’t know the meaning of the word. ‘Thank you. But you know I’m here only for one night. I fly back tomorrow.’

      She turned her head to look at him. ‘Do you have to?’

      That was ironic. ‘No choice.’ Literally. ‘And I won’t be back for a long time.’ A very long time maybe.

      She nodded. ‘Then we’d best make the most of tonight.’

      He choked back a laugh. ‘What on earth can you mean?’

      ‘Catch up on what we’ve both been doing, of course. Before Simon monopolises you.’ She was saying one thing but her body was saying something else as she sashayed into the lounge again, and he may as well have had a leash around his neck because he followed her with indecent haste and growing fatalism.

      ‘Simon will be back soon.’ A brief attempt to return to reality but she was standing in the centre of the room looking suddenly unsure, and that brief fragility pierced him like no other reaction could have. Before he knew it he had his arms around her, cradling her against his chest, soothing the black hair away from her face. Silk skin, glorious cheekbones, a determined little chin. And she felt so damn perfect in his arms as she snuggled into him.

      ‘Take me to bed, Rayne. Make me feel like a woman again.’

      ‘That would be too easy.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.’

      ‘I’m a big girl, Rayne. Covered for contraception. Unattached and in sound mind. Do I have to beg?’

      He looked at her, squeezed her to him. Thought about the near future and how he would never get this chance again because things would never be the same. He would never be the same. Searched her face СКАЧАТЬ