One Night She Would Never Forget. Amy Andrews
heart with joy every day and Miranda couldn’t even begin to imagine life without her daughter.
Lola ran across the room in her usual excitable way and threw herself at Miranda’s body. ‘Mummmmmy!’
Miranda laughed as she clutched her daughter close, kissing her beautiful curls. It was hard to believe that an insane teenage coupling born from rebellion and disaffection had resulted in the perfect little person in front of her. Sleeping with a transient surfer dude only a couple of years older than herself had been a three-week moment of madness but his DNA could not be faulted.
‘Come on, darling,’ Miranda said, crouching down and accepting an enthusiastic kiss. ‘Get your bag. Let’s go home.’
‘Can my new best friend in the whole world come too? For a tea party? We could have Nan’s cupcakes and drink Earl Grey just like real ladies.’
Miranda gave an inward groan as her headache thumped in earnest. The very last thing she wanted to do now was to entertain another child. ‘I’d need her mummy’s permission, Lols. Let’s do it another day, okay? Maybe at the weekend? I’ll get her number from the phone tree.’
Lola clasped her hands together as if she was an orphan asking for more food. ‘Oh, no, Mummy, pleeeeeease? I love her. I love her. I told her she could come.’
Miranda smiled despite her tiredness and felt her little girl’s passionate entreaty worm its way under her skin. ‘Lols …’
Lola shifted from foot to foot and clapped. ‘I’ll go and get her.’
Miranda stood and sagged in resignation. Any other day she’d have brushed off Lola’s sneaky big-eyed plea with a firm ‘Not today’ but life had battered her a little too much these last eight hours and children could always spot a weakness.
She turned to ask the teacher for the list of parent phone numbers. She seriously doubted the other mother would say yes—she certainly wouldn’t let Lola go to a place she wasn’t familiar with and to people she didn’t know—but maybe they could set something up for the weekend.
The very last person she expected to see walking through the front door was Patrick.
For a moment she forgot he was a lying, cheating sneak who had put her in a morally untenable position and just rode the surge of undiluted lust that brushed her skin in a crimson flush. Memories of his kiss, of his heat, of his hardness flooded in and muscles deep inside her tightened in recognition.
God, she wanted him again. Wanted to drag him into the little room where she knew they kept the supplies, strip his clothes off and do him against the wall.
This was what happened when a grown woman lived her life like a nun. Inappropriate thoughts about men who did not deserve them!
He gave her a surprised look and her heart thundered as he approached, even his grim smile with that sinful chin cleft seemed somehow devilishly sexy.
‘Are you following me?’ she demanded. It seemed irrational but the thumping in her head wasn’t exactly allowing for clear thought processes. She didn’t know what he was doing here but she certainly didn’t want to exchange pleasantries with the man.
Or listen to his excuses.
Patrick blinked at her aggressive tone. He knew he had some explaining to do but he was too tired for female histrionics. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Miranda folded her arms across her chest. ‘I told you I did not want to talk to you about … our … stuff and I don’t appreciate you trying to push the issue.’
‘Look, Miranda.’ He ruffled his hair. ‘I’m just here to pick up Ruby, that’s all.’
It took a few seconds for Miranda to get the import of his words, distracted as she was by the ruffled sexiness of his hair. She frowned but was interrupted by a ‘Mummy’ and a yank on her jeans. She looked down blankly, pleased for the respite from his weary brown eyes that tugged in places they had no right to be tugging.
Her blonde curly-haired moppet blinked up at her, one skinny arm slung around the neck of a cute little redhead with rosy cheeks and her father’s eyes.
‘This is Ruby,’ she announced. ‘My new bestest friend for ever. She has a lipth. Please, Mummy, please can she come over for cupcakes?’
‘Pleath, Daddy,’ the little redhead added. ‘Pleeeeeath.’
Patrick smiled down at his daughter. Ruby tended to be on the quiet side and it was unusual for her to make such a fast friend so it eased his conscience over the move. He looked at Miranda and shrugged. ‘I’m okay with it if you are.’
Miranda felt cornered. She was absolutely, one hundred per cent not okay with it. But she’d have to choose her words carefully in front of little ears. Somehow ‘I’d rather stick a red-hot poker in my eye than have a low-down cheating skunk in my house’ didn’t seem appropriate with their audience.
‘Pleeeeeath,’ Ruby begged, looking up at Miranda. Her two front teeth were missing, something that no doubt exacerbated the lisp.
‘It would give us a good chance to talk,’ Patrick murmured close to her ear.
‘Pleeeeeease, Mummy.’
Miranda took in all three, each in their own way desperate for something from her, and knew when she was defeated. ‘Okay,’ she acquiesced. ‘But only for a short visit. I’ve got a bit of a headache and tomorrow will be another long day.’
‘Yaaaay!’ Two little girls squealed and jumped up and down, hugging each other, strands of blonde and red hair intertwining.
‘Yay,’ said Patrick.
But his voice was lower, edgier, sexier and slid into places he’d already been and shouldn’t have.
Miranda shivered.
Twenty minutes later the knock on her front door heralded Patrick and Ruby’s arrival and Miranda felt the squall inside intensify. The two tablets she’d taken for her headache had started to work but the thump returned with a vengeance as Lola squealed and raced to answer the door.
Miranda looked around her small two-bedroom residence feeling suddenly inadequate. She’d been living above her grandmother’s garage since before Lola’s birth and although she’d made it into a nice cosy home, it wasn’t where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.
Patrick probably lived in a mansion. On the river. With a city view. What would he make of this?
Lola and Ruby ran past her into Lola’s bedroom in a blur of blonde and red and left her alone with Patrick standing in the doorway in his business shirt and trousers looking tired and sexy and rumpled, just like he had that night six months ago. Her heart fluttered madly.
‘Hi.’ He smiled.
Miranda wanted to smile at him too. Say hi back as she walked straight into his arms and gave in to the passion that still burned deep inside despite her animosity. He looked so at home in her doorway it was scary.
She took a breath. ‘Come in,’ she said. It felt stiff and awkward but that was too bad. ‘Would you like a coffee?’
‘Sure.’
Patrick pushed off the doorframe. She looked tired and wary and he couldn’t blame her but her jeans clung and her T-shirt stretched nicely across breasts he’d dreamed about a little too much, and he was right back there in that hotel room with her.
He followed her across the lounge into the open-plan kitchen, leaning his butt against a bench as she busied herself. ‘You’ve cut your hair,’ he said.
Miranda, hyper-aware of him standing behind her, absently touched her nape where her pixie cut now feathered. ‘Yes,’ she said, her hands shaking as she poured hot water into mugs.
She supposed he had some fancy Italian coffee machine that made double-shot decaf lattes. All