The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

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      Yep, bona fide adorable.

      And Kate just had to see the drawing. So she peeked over Scott’s shoulder.

      Oh. Ohhhhh.

      It was the perfect little girls’ house. Towers and turrets. Winding paths. A secret entrance to an underground treasure cave, a private elf garden, a sunken pool with a waterfall. He’d sketched two bedrooms, labelled ‘Molly’ and ‘Maeve’, with fairytale beds and magic mirrors and spiralling staircases.

      When Kate took the girls off to clean their teeth and get ready for bed, each of the girls kissed Scott goodnight—one per cheek—and he blushed.

      Scott Knight, who could talk more boldly about sex than any man she’d ever met, blushed.

      Kate felt her heart do one of those swoons inside her chest, and thought, Uh-oh. This is bad. Very, very bad.

      She read to Maeve and Molly until they drifted into sleep, and then—a little apprehensive—went to find Scott.

      He was on the terrace, where he gravitated every time she left him alone.

      ‘I poured you a glass of wine. It’s there on the table. And sorry, Kate, but that table’s going to have to go, along with the chairs,’ he said. ‘It’s so fragile I feel like I’m going to break something every time I’m near that furniture.’

      She had to agree it looked like a children’s toy set next to Scott’s imposing frame. Everything did. But she forbore from pointing out that she was not going to change her furniture for a man who wouldn’t be in her life for long.

      Whew. That hit her. This was finite. It had a start date and it would come to an end. She couldn’t let herself forget that just because he’d smiled at her once as if he saw something wonderful in her. Or because he’d made love to her once as if he was embedding himself inside her.

      Scott took a long pull of beer from the bottle in his hand, gazing out at the marina as Kate fetched her glass and joined him at the edge of the terrace.

      ‘What’s it like? Sailing?’ she asked.

      ‘It was fun.’

      ‘Was?’

      ‘I don’t sail any more.’

      ‘But…why? I mean, why not?’

      ‘It was just…’ Shrug. ‘Time to concentrate on the important things in life.’

      ‘Fun is important.’

      He looked down at her. ‘I am having fun. With you,’ he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

      ‘I know why you do that,’ she said, when he pulled back. ‘Do what?’

      ‘Kiss me.’

      ‘Well, duh, Kate! I do it because I like kissing you.’

      ‘You do it to distract me. So you don’t have to answer my questions.’

      ‘And does it? Distract you?’

      ‘Yes. But why are such simple questions a problem for you?’

      Pause. ‘Prying into my past is not part of the deal, Kate.’

      Kate felt it like a slap—not just the words but the keep your distance tone. She found she was gripping her glass too hard, so put it on the broad top of the terrace railing.

      She heard Scott sigh. Then he was smoothing his hand over her hair like an apology. ‘Kate, the sailing… It’s just something I set aside to focus on the realities of life—like studying and working. And look at me now—I’m an award-winner!’ Low laugh, with all the self-deprecation his brother lacked. ‘It’s enough for me.’

      ‘If it were enough you wouldn’t spend every moment I leave you alone out on the terrace, watching the boats.’

      ‘Pry-ing…’ he sing-songed.

      ‘It’s not prying to ask questions about a person you…you’re…’

      ‘Having sex with,’ he supplied. And sighed again. ‘You drew up the contract, Kate. There wasn’t a clause for fireside chats in there.’ Slight pause. ‘Right?’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘So has anything changed for you?’

      She wanted to say yes. That things had changed. Because of the way they’d made love two nights ago. The way he’d presented her with a chocolate heart. And blushed when two little girls had kissed him. The way he tried to pretend that the boats bobbing on the harbour held no fascination for him when she knew they did.

      But if things changed he would go. She knew it instinctively. Not yet. Not…yet.

      ‘No,’ she said quietly, and picked up her wine glass, sipped. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

      They stood in silence, side by side, staring across at the dark water, the city lights in the distance.

      And then Scott cleared his throat. Just a tiny sound. ‘Good. Because the whole fireside-chat thing… It would be like me asking you…’ Shrug. ‘I don’t know…’ Shrug. ‘If you wanted…maybe…to have children. One day, I mean.’

      Another clearing of the throat. ‘Because you’re so good with the girls anyone would wonder about that.’

      What the hell? Kate slanted a look at him. He was looking out at the Harbour.

      But then he turned, looked at her. Eyes watchful. ‘And you wouldn’t want me to ask you that, would you?’

      ‘If you wanted to ask me that, Scott, I’d answer. Because it’s no big deal.’

      ‘Ah, but I don’t need to ask. I already know the answer is yes.’

      And for the first time in a long time, Kate thought, Yes. The answer, very simply, was yes. Except of course she’d lost that simple answer somewhere along her career path.

      She turned back to the boats. Long moment.

      ‘You know, Scott, I’ve seen fathers who say they’ve been tricked into pregnancy and shouldn’t have to pay child support. Divorcing parents using child custody as carrot and stick to punish or bribe. Surrogates who decide to keep their children when those children are the last hope of desperate couples. Fathers pulling out all the stops to avoid their children being aborted. Twins separated and fostered because of financial pressure. Unwanted children, abused children, ignored children. I’m not sure that’s an enticement to parenthood.’

      ‘But you wouldn’t be like any of those parents.’

      ‘No. But a lot of women are good at choosing the wrong man.’

      ‘Then don’t choose the wrong man.’

      ‘Oh, simple!’ СКАЧАТЬ