Read Online Christmas at Waratah Bay by Marion Lennox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marion Lennox
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of other dogs, safe in Max Ramsey’s world.
She sniffed. She couldn’t help it. Emotions were suddenly getting the best of her.
She shouldn’t have come. Suddenly this was all so seductive, this place, this night . . . this man.
“Sarah?”
“Mmm.” She sniffed again.
He shifted a little, setting Gerome on his knees. Gerome whimpered a little in protest but then, knees were pretty warm, too, and Bing took over the tummy rubbing. Okay, tummy licking but it was obviously close enough.
“You’re crying,” Max said and Sarah’s sniffs got desperate.
“I’m not.” She didn’t cry. She never cried. What was she on about? Of all the stupid . . .
And Max was delving into a pocket, handing over a handkerchief. A great, sensible man’s hanky. She’d never seen such a thing. She eyed it in awe.
“I can’t possibly . . . ”
“Go ahead. It’s what it’s for.” He grinned. “Not for looking, for blowing.”
Okay, one more sniff and the need got urgent. She blew, hard, then blew and mopped some more.
And as if driven by some sixth sense, Bing suddenly backed out from between them. There were no barriers, and a man’d have to be harder than Max to resist. He edged closer and hauled her against him. She resisted for a moment and then slumped, her body melting against his as she took the comfort he offered.
“Hey . . . ” He held her close, wanting to hold her even closer but her distress was too obvious. “Want to tell Uncle Max?”
She choked on a hiccupy laugh, and blew her nose again and mopped.
“Nothing . . . nothing to tell. Sorry, I’m just a bit emotional and I don’t know why. It must be this place.” It might be this man, too, but she wasn’t telling him that. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid, but I was so happy here.”
“You never tried to come back?”
“There were . . .reasons. I’m back now, but Harold has so little time.”
“At least you came.”
“Yeah.”
“Sarah . . . It’s okay,” he said, holding her closer still. “Maybe just one day at a time, hey?”
“Yeah.”
“Sarah?”
“Mmm.”
“You finished with that hanky?”
“I . . . ” She sniffed one last time and looked down at it with regret. What a way to treat a thing of beauty. Vintage linen . . . awesome. “Yeah, but I’ll wash it before I give it back.”
“Tomorrow. But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight’s for now. Sarah, would you mind if I kissed you?”
Silence stretched out between them, a loaded silence, full of stuff she didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand. Why? This man thought she was some sort of pond scum. This man didn’t want her here.
This man was holding her close, her puppy was on his knee, his strength and warmth were crazily seductive, she was where she wanted to be most in the world, and he’d just said one day at a time. Tonight’s for now.
A kiss . . .
She should run a mile. She should . . .
She didn’t. She turned her face up to look at him.
“Yes, please,” she said—and he did.
*
As kisses go, it was amazing. A truly excellent kiss. Almost, one might say, mind-blowing.
It was gentle—it had to be as with pup on his knee he couldn’t turn and take her into his arms without Gerome tumbling off. So, he held her with one arm, he waited until she tilted her face to his—and then his mouth lowered onto hers.
And the night stilled. No, the night disappeared. There was only this man, this moment, this touch.
This fire.
For that’s what it was. She couldn’t believe he was kissing her. The moment she’d seen him she’d thought he looked so sexy he made her knees wobble, and what he’d done for Harold . . . Harold would have been in a nursing home long ago if it weren’t for this man. Then there were the dogs. Harold’s dogs were ancient. One a scraggy old collie who spread hair wherever he went, an ancient fox terrier, and both of them . . . well, to say air freshener was required
She sniffed. She couldn’t help it. Emotions were suddenly getting the best of her.
She shouldn’t have come. Suddenly this was all so seductive, this place, this night . . . this man.
“Sarah?”
“Mmm.” She sniffed again.
He shifted a little, setting Gerome on his knees. Gerome whimpered a little in protest but then, knees were pretty warm, too, and Bing took over the tummy rubbing. Okay, tummy licking but it was obviously close enough.
“You’re crying,” Max said and Sarah’s sniffs got desperate.
“I’m not.” She didn’t cry. She never cried. What was she on about? Of all the stupid . . .
And Max was delving into a pocket, handing over a handkerchief. A great, sensible man’s hanky. She’d never seen such a thing. She eyed it in awe.
“I can’t possibly . . . ”
“Go ahead. It’s what it’s for.” He grinned. “Not for looking, for blowing.”
Okay, one more sniff and the need got urgent. She blew, hard, then blew and mopped some more.
And as if driven by some sixth sense, Bing suddenly backed out from between them. There were no barriers, and a man’d have to be harder than Max to resist. He edged closer and hauled her against him. She resisted for a moment and then slumped, her body melting against his as she took the comfort he offered.
“Hey . . . ” He held her close, wanting to hold her even closer but her distress was too obvious. “Want to tell Uncle Max?”
She choked on a hiccupy laugh, and blew her nose again and mopped.
“Nothing . . . nothing to tell. Sorry, I’m just a bit emotional and I don’t know why. It must be this place.” It might be this man, too, but she wasn’t telling him that. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid, but I was so happy here.”
“You never tried to come back?”
“There were . . .reasons. I’m back now, but Harold has so little time.”
“At least you came.”
“Yeah.”
“Sarah . . . It’s okay,” he said, holding her closer still. “Maybe just one day at a time, hey?”
“Yeah.”
“Sarah?”
“Mmm.”
“You finished with that hanky?”
“I . . . ” She sniffed one last time and looked down at it with regret. What a way to treat a thing of beauty. Vintage linen . . . awesome. “Yeah, but I’ll wash it before I give it back.”
“Tomorrow. But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight’s for now. Sarah, would you mind if I kissed you?”
Silence stretched out between them, a loaded silence, full of stuff she didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand. Why? This man thought she was some sort of pond scum. This man didn’t want her here.
This man was holding her close, her puppy was on his knee, his strength and warmth were crazily seductive, she was where she wanted to be most in the world, and he’d just said one day at a time. Tonight’s for now.
A kiss . . .
She should run a mile. She should . . .
She didn’t. She turned her face up to look at him.
“Yes, please,” she said—and he did.
*
As kisses go, it was amazing. A truly excellent kiss. Almost, one might say, mind-blowing.
It was gentle—it had to be as with pup on his knee he couldn’t turn and take her into his arms without Gerome tumbling off. So, he held her with one arm, he waited until she tilted her face to his—and then his mouth lowered onto hers.
And the night stilled. No, the night disappeared. There was only this man, this moment, this touch.
This fire.
For that’s what it was. She couldn’t believe he was kissing her. The moment she’d seen him she’d thought he looked so sexy he made her knees wobble, and what he’d done for Harold . . . Harold would have been in a nursing home long ago if it weren’t for this man. Then there were the dogs. Harold’s dogs were ancient. One a scraggy old collie who spread hair wherever he went, an ancient fox terrier, and both of them . . . well, to say air freshener was required
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