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Authors: Jane Beckenham
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his mouth quirking to one side. “What do you want, Leah?”
Yes, what?
Kiss me. Now!
For a horrified second, Leah thought she’d actually spoken the words. But then Mac pushed away from the bench, from her, and she felt a distinct sense of abandonment.
“Okay, so you don’t want to order dinner. How about I barbecue? Shame not to enjoy the weather.”
Just like that, he’d gone from teasing her senseless to talking about food. How typical of a man!
“You’ll need the seasoning,” she said just to get him out of her kitchen and away from reach. She reached for the seasoning jar. Hot and sexy. No, that was wrong. She shook her head, having trouble focusing on the spice label. Hot and spicy. She grabbed the spice bottle and passed it to him. Refusing to let him bait her further, she kept her expression glacial, when inside she was burning hot…and that was entirely his fault. “You’re not here to enjoy yourself.” Besides, she didn’t want to even consider the fact that she could enjoy time with him. That wasn’t allowed.
“Shame about that,” he responded, not even blinking an eye. Opening the back door that led from the kitchen to the brick paved patio, where the trailing clematis scented the garden, he walked outside, whistling to himself .
“Oooh.” Damn! Damn! Damn! Leah didn’t want him enjoying himself. Or smiling. Or whistling. Or…looking at her. And definitely not with those sexy eyes of his.
Her own eyes shuttered, but it seemed nothing could eradicate the vision of Mac smiling at her, or the memory of their kiss, as if it were yesterday.
Just a little kiss. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, because it stirred emotions and feelings she had tried to forget and told herself didn’t matter anymore.
How wrong she was. They mattered. Mac’s kiss had made sure of it.
And she hated to admit it, but only minutes ago she had thought he was going to kiss her again, and had really, really wanted him to.
Trying to keep busy and ignore his whistling or thinking about kisses, Leah gathered the ingredients for a salad from the refrigerator. Then she found herself whistling.
She slammed her lips together. For goodness sake, what was wrong with her?
Within minutes, Mac had the barbecue fired, but what worse was that he’d shucked off his T-shirt to reveal tanned forearms and biceps that would do a football player proud. And abs? Well… Far too much visual.
So what was different? The man stripped in the grove.
Yeah, but this was different. This was at home, more intimate.
A sudden uncertainty hitched in Leah’s chest as she watched him from the protection of the kitchen, watched his precise movements and found herself wondering…thinking shameless thoughts. Thinking about his hands skimming across her body and arousing her. Thinking about his kiss. About more kisses.
Oh lordy! She grabbed the skillet from the bench. “All the better to hit you with, Mac Grainger,” she muttered.
“Mummy, is Uncle Mac going to cook?” Charlee stood at the back door, staring first at Mac and then at Leah, surprise registering in both her expression and voice.
Leah understood that surprise. Cooking was another thing Curtis had never done.
“Charlee, take this out to Mac,” she instructed and handed her daughter the skillet.
As the easy laughter between Charlee and Mac once more filtered through to her, Leah realized it was happening, just as she knew it would. Curtis had never been a real father to Charlee, and just as any child did, her daughter soaked up all the attention Mac gave her. Mac had taken on the role of daddy. But Mac was temporary. What would happen when he left? The longer he stayed, the more painful his departure would be—another reason to get rid of him sooner rather than later.
Charlee attached to Mac wasn’t a good idea.
You’re getting attached too!
The knife sliced into her flesh. “Ow…” Leah squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the instant burst of
Yes, what?
Kiss me. Now!
For a horrified second, Leah thought she’d actually spoken the words. But then Mac pushed away from the bench, from her, and she felt a distinct sense of abandonment.
“Okay, so you don’t want to order dinner. How about I barbecue? Shame not to enjoy the weather.”
Just like that, he’d gone from teasing her senseless to talking about food. How typical of a man!
“You’ll need the seasoning,” she said just to get him out of her kitchen and away from reach. She reached for the seasoning jar. Hot and sexy. No, that was wrong. She shook her head, having trouble focusing on the spice label. Hot and spicy. She grabbed the spice bottle and passed it to him. Refusing to let him bait her further, she kept her expression glacial, when inside she was burning hot…and that was entirely his fault. “You’re not here to enjoy yourself.” Besides, she didn’t want to even consider the fact that she could enjoy time with him. That wasn’t allowed.
“Shame about that,” he responded, not even blinking an eye. Opening the back door that led from the kitchen to the brick paved patio, where the trailing clematis scented the garden, he walked outside, whistling to himself .
“Oooh.” Damn! Damn! Damn! Leah didn’t want him enjoying himself. Or smiling. Or whistling. Or…looking at her. And definitely not with those sexy eyes of his.
Her own eyes shuttered, but it seemed nothing could eradicate the vision of Mac smiling at her, or the memory of their kiss, as if it were yesterday.
Just a little kiss. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, because it stirred emotions and feelings she had tried to forget and told herself didn’t matter anymore.
How wrong she was. They mattered. Mac’s kiss had made sure of it.
And she hated to admit it, but only minutes ago she had thought he was going to kiss her again, and had really, really wanted him to.
Trying to keep busy and ignore his whistling or thinking about kisses, Leah gathered the ingredients for a salad from the refrigerator. Then she found herself whistling.
She slammed her lips together. For goodness sake, what was wrong with her?
Within minutes, Mac had the barbecue fired, but what worse was that he’d shucked off his T-shirt to reveal tanned forearms and biceps that would do a football player proud. And abs? Well… Far too much visual.
So what was different? The man stripped in the grove.
Yeah, but this was different. This was at home, more intimate.
A sudden uncertainty hitched in Leah’s chest as she watched him from the protection of the kitchen, watched his precise movements and found herself wondering…thinking shameless thoughts. Thinking about his hands skimming across her body and arousing her. Thinking about his kiss. About more kisses.
Oh lordy! She grabbed the skillet from the bench. “All the better to hit you with, Mac Grainger,” she muttered.
“Mummy, is Uncle Mac going to cook?” Charlee stood at the back door, staring first at Mac and then at Leah, surprise registering in both her expression and voice.
Leah understood that surprise. Cooking was another thing Curtis had never done.
“Charlee, take this out to Mac,” she instructed and handed her daughter the skillet.
As the easy laughter between Charlee and Mac once more filtered through to her, Leah realized it was happening, just as she knew it would. Curtis had never been a real father to Charlee, and just as any child did, her daughter soaked up all the attention Mac gave her. Mac had taken on the role of daddy. But Mac was temporary. What would happen when he left? The longer he stayed, the more painful his departure would be—another reason to get rid of him sooner rather than later.
Charlee attached to Mac wasn’t a good idea.
You’re getting attached too!
The knife sliced into her flesh. “Ow…” Leah squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the instant burst of
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