Date with a Single Dad. Ally Blake

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      ‘I like you better this way,’ she admitted.

      ‘What way?’

      ‘Not bossing me around. You should try that more.’

      He gave the blanket and hat a tug. She shuffled forward a step before letting go and he threw them lazily onto the cooler.

      He looked back at her. The earlier glints in his dark eyes had been mere imitations of the glints glinting at her now. The kind of glints she now wished she’d not wished for. They were dazzling, they were blistering, they were completely incapacitating.

      His voice rumbled, low and deep. ‘By that logic if I continue that way you’ll only like me more.’

      ‘You can’t argue with logic,’ she said, trying to sound pithy; instead she sounded as if she was flirting. Which, of course, she was.

      How could she not? He was glinting and smiling, and somehow, whether by her brilliant psychological tactics or by his choice alone, she’d been allowed to see a little of the man behind the mask.

      What she saw there she liked.

      And by the look in his eyes what he saw in front of him right at this moment he liked right back.

      Meg licked her lips. His hot gaze trailed slowly down the curves of her face until it landed square upon her mouth. His eyes turned dark as night and he breathed out. Hard.

      Despite knowing that what was about to happen was reckless and pointless and born of nothing more concrete than the ephemeral connection of confidences shared, Meg just stood there, her entire body vibrating in anticipation.

      Zach slid his arm gently around her back, with such little pressure she had time and room to curl away.

      She knew she should. She thought to the very last she would. She was always the one to back away first before anything truly serious came to bear. But her toes curled into her shoes and she held her ground.

      Zach’s brow creased for the briefest of seconds as though he was surprising even himself before a small smile eased onto his mouth. Hers lifted in its image.

      Then he pulled her in close. The warmth of his sun-drenched body pressed through her dress until every inch of skin, exposed and concealed, felt as if it had begun to glow.

      Her hand fluttered up to rest against his chest to find it hard, fit, unyielding, everything she’d thought him to be. Only now she knew that beneath the tough exterior beat the heart of a man whose primary goal was the protection of a little girl.

      He leaned down and moved his lips over hers. He tasted like chocolate muffins. She was toast.

      The kiss was slow. Dreamy. As if he had no intention of missing out on experiencing every single nuance.

      It took about three and a half seconds before Meg slid her arms around his neck and pressed up onto her toes to get closer to him. Sinking against him. Soaking up every bit of him that she possibly could.

      With a groan that reverberated through her body like a little earthquake, his strong arms wrapped so tight around her he lifted her off the jetty as though she weighed nothing at all.

      The kiss deepened. And deepened again.

      His tongue eased into her mouth, caressing the edges of her teeth, sliding over the tiny chip in her front tooth, sending delicious shivers through her, touching her tongue for the briefest of moments before it was gone.

      She was breathless and hot. Her skin hummed. Her insides ached. Her toes curled. Her lungs burned. And the kiss continued as beautifully indulgent and unhurried as it had begun.

      Until her flat shoes slid from her feet, landing on the jetty with a soft slap, leaving her feet bare, and leaving her feeling exposed. Completely at his mercy. And finally her senses came swarming back.

      She pulled away. Ever so slightly. But he felt it. Slowly, gently, he placed her back on the jetty. And they uncurled their limbs from around one another.

      Only once there was enough space for a summer breeze to slide between them did Zach say, ‘I’m not sure where that came from.’

      ‘I am,’ she said, her cheeks pinking the second the words left her mouth. But it was the truth. She’d wanted to do that since the moment she’d first seen him.

      It got her a slow, easy smile and a nod. The moment of accord, of finally admitting to each other what they both felt, was even more formidable than the kiss itself.

      ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘My posse will be moseying back to camp any time soon.’

      She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. His skin was so warm, the energy coursing through him so vital, her heart rate rose in direct response.

      ‘I’m really sorry about Isabel,’ she said.

      His mouth quirked, but he didn’t smile. And she wondered if he’d been hoping the kiss would wipe everything else from her mind. She wasn’t about to tell him how close it had come.

      Instead, she squeezed his arm again, and said, ‘But I’m not worried about Ruby. I have no doubt she’s in good hands. She’s really lucky to have you.’

      She lifted her hand in a small wave, then gathered her shoes and jogged up the jetty, her mind already playing over the fib she’d have to create for Rylie and Tabitha to explain where she’d been, what she’d been doing, and why she was floating an inch off the ground but couldn’t quite remove the frown from her forehead at the same time.

      Later that night, once Rylie and Tabitha were snoring lightly in their rooms Meg lay on her bed, wide-awake, her mobile phone warm in her palms.

      She’d been tossing it from hand to hand for a good couple of hours, ever since she’d got off the phone from saying goodnight to Olivia and Violet, Brendan’s girls.

      They’d sounded bright, cheery, happy. What had she expected? They were seven and four, and they had ponies, ballet lessons, piano, rock climbing, Chinese and French lessons, summer trips around the world with their grandmother, twenty-year-old nannies who spoilt them rotten, and a dad who clearly wrestled with the amount of time he spent at work while they grew up without him there to see it.

      But as she lay back on her bed, the pale summer moon spilling light through the far window creating a hypnotic play of light and shadow on the ceiling, the fairy dust cleared from her eyes and Ruby’s small face looked back at her instead.

      She’d seen so much of herself in the kid’s mutinous streak. That spark could be so easily deflated. Or worse, it could spin out of control. She hoped not. With all her might. Not just for Ruby. But also for Zach.

      Big, bad, daunting, noble, solid Zach Jones.

      Growing up in her family, the only kind of masculine strength she’d understood till she met him had been overt. Overpowering. Uncompromising.

      Zach’s strength came from somewhere much deeper. A place he didn’t feel compelled to proclaim to the world. The fact that she’d been allowed to witness it in the revelation of how he’d changed his life for his little girl made it that much more compelling. СКАЧАТЬ