Midwife's Mistletoe Baby. Fiona McArthur
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 for any change of mind. No. Bloody hell. She didn’t have to beg.
So he picked her up in his arms, and she lifted her hands to clasp him around his neck, and he kissed her gorgeous mouth and they lost a few more minutes in a hazy dream of connection. Finally he got the words out. ‘So which bedroom is yours?’
She laughed. ‘Up two flights of stairs. Want me to walk?’
‘Much as I have enjoyed watching you walk, I’d prefer to carry you.’
And with impressive ease he did. Maeve rested her head back on that solid shoulder and gazed up at the chiselled features and strong nose. And those sinful lips. OMG, did she know what she was doing? Well, there was no way she wanted this to stop. This chemistry had been building since that first searing glance that had jerked and stunned them both like two people on the same elastic. She tightened her hands around his neck.
He felt so powerful—not pretty and perfect like Sean had been—but she didn’t want to think about Sean. About the pale comparison of a man she’d wasted her heart on when she should have always known Rayne would stand head and shoulders above any other man.
Speaking of shoulders, he used one to push open the door she indicated, knocked it shut with his foot, and strode across the room to the big double bed she thought he would toss her onto, but he smiled, glanced around the room and lowered her gently until her feet were on the floor.
His breathing hadn’t changed and he looked as if he could have done it all again without working a sweat.
Ooh la la. ‘I’m impressed.’
He raised his brows quizzically and freed the French drapes until they floated down to cover the double window in a flounced bat of their lacy eyelids and the room dimmed to a rosy glow from the streetlights outside. Slid his wallet out of his pocket and put it on the windowsill after retrieving a small foil packet.
Then he pulled her towards him and spun her until her spine was against the wall and her breasts were pressed into his hardness. Shook his head and smiled full into her eyes. Felt her knees knock as he said, ‘You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen.’
She thought, And you are the sexiest man, as she lifted her lips to his, and thank goodness he didn’t wait to be asked twice. Like falling into a swirling maelstrom of luscious sensation, Maeve felt reality disappear like a leaf sucked into a drainpipe then she heard him say something. Realised he’d created physical distance between them. Her mind struggled to process sound to speech.
‘Miss Maeve, are you sure you want to proceed?’
It was a jolting and slightly disappointing thing to say in the bubble of sensuality he’d created and she looked up at him. Surprised a look of anguish she hadn’t expected. ‘Are you trying to spoil this for a particular reason?’
A distance she didn’t like flashed in his eyes. ‘Maybe.’
She pulled his head forward with her hands in his hair. ‘Well, don’t!’
Rayne