The woman had trouble deciding on exactly what she wanted by way of a birthday bunch. Thirty pounds, no forty. A block colour? No. A riot of colour? All white? In the end, she went for a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows and greens; chrysanthemums, germini and sunflowers. Lovely, but Jenna hoped the birthday girl was wearing sunglasses.
It was very quiet when she finally turned the lock on the front door and switched the sign to closed. ‘Nick?’
‘In here,’ he whispered from inside the castle. ‘She’s asleep and I’m stuck.’
‘Oh, Evie. Not so difficult after all?’
‘A doddle. She’s a pushover.’
Jenna’s heart did a little loop-the-loop as she peered in and saw Nick’s large frame hunched almost in half with Evie fast asleep in the crook of his arm, Teddy clutched close to her chest. They looked so content. So perfect. So right. The man had wrestled a child to sleep, and he looked like he’d won a gold medal. Seemed to her like he was the pushover.
When she was first pregnant, this was how she’d envisaged her life turning out, with a man she cared for and her baby daughter, sharing moments. Tender moments. Tears threatened again. She blinked them away. Because she wasn’t looking for a father for Evie, or for a man to share moments with herself. But Nick kept coming back, and she kept enjoying it. Too much. He seemed to know how to get to the core of her.
Something shifted inside her as she looked at them, something broke free and she felt her heart swell. He was a good man. A great man. Gentle and kind and loyal and… hot. He was, in essence, perfect. Or as perfect as she believed anyone could ever be.
The thrill of warning adrenalin rushed through her. She was on dangerous ground feeling things like this.
Breathing out all the pent-up emotion, she tried to wriggle in to the tent and help untangle the man and the child. ‘Can you…? Should I…?’
He kept his voice low, but he was laughing too. ‘I really don’t think there’s enough room for us all in here. You go out first. Then I’ll settle her on the cushion.’ He looked up, and maybe he caught the blur of tears or maybe it was the look on her face that gave her away. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m fine. Honestly. I’m just tired.’
‘I’m not surprised. You do too much.’ He raised his free hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin softly. She didn’t know if even he realised he was doing it. He’d dropped his guard, or rather her daughter had pushed against it enough to see cracks. He smiled at her, and in that smile were a thousand whispers of hope. Hope? Or a promise, or just a wonderful dream. Whichever, she was under his spell and wasn’t sure she could break free.
In this position, Chloe would just grab him and lock lips. But Jenna wasn’t Chloe. She was unsure and scared and couldn’t control her own heart rate, never mind her sudden and urgent sexual need.
‘Do you want to wriggle in next to her and get some rest while I go sort out the locks?’ he asked.
No. She wanted to wriggle in next to him and do things that were far from restful. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m fine. Maybe I’ll go pop the kettle on. Once she’s gone off, she’s dead to the world.’
‘Then we’d better get started before she wakes up.’ He winked and smiled. And Jenna read a hundred meanings into those words, but longed for just one.
*
So this was a big mistake. The alarm. The little girl. Jenna.
Jenna in the dress she’d worn at the shop opening—the one that showed off her waist and pushed up her breasts and made him want to dive right in and never come up for air.
God. He was doomed. Lost.
The stupid, reckless putting his hand on her cheek thing. What the hell? This wasn’t some ridiculous fairy tale; this was real. Her feelings were real. He could see it in her eyes each time she looked at him. And so were his. Too real.
Every smile from her made a chink in his armour. Every laugh let more light in. He was on unsteady ground here, and the best option would have been to leave immediately. But he wasn’t going to have them vulnerable to any ratbag burglar; he was going to set up the security system.
Then leave.
Leave.
He gently slipped his arm out from under Evie. God, she was cute. The perfect storybook kid with her hair tugged tight into two… what were they called? Pigtails? Ponytails? Plaits? God knew. She’d slipped too easily under his skin, despite the first meeting that had left his shoes with a strange smell.
But one thing life had taught him was to not get too involved with a kid that wasn’t yours. He’d learnt that the hard way, after he’d fallen head over heels with the tumbling grey blob on the ultrasound screen. Fallen hard and fast and let a wild, fierce love bloom in his chest. Until the fallout came.
The way he’d got over Helen within weeks had told him she definitely hadn’t been the right woman for him after all. But the ache for that unborn babe—who he’d discovered too late wasn’t his—had taken months to go.
He stretched out a crampy foot, then the other leg. Careful not to touch mother or child.
Crawl out. Alarm. Leave. That was his OP for the next thirty minutes.
If only it was that easy.
The tent door had been rolled back for easy access, but it was still too small for an adult to walk through. Even crawling was hard. He watched Jenna wriggle backwards out of the tent; the way she stretched back, every movement deliberate and considered, made him want her even more. The way she moved so gently so as not to wake her child made him ache for her gentle hands to be on him. That serious expression on him. That luscious mouth taut in concentration on him.
He was in a hell of his own making.
He backed out after Jenna and stood slowly so as not to catch her straightening her clothes like he had to, having been all cramped up. He tucked his uniform shirt properly into his trousers and turned, catching her eyes darting from his waist to a spot somewhere over his shoulder.
Her cheeks darkened. Her eyes glittered. Slowly, she lowered her gaze and locked with his, her pupils large, her mouth open just a fraction. Her lips were plump and glossy and made for kissing. She smiled and shrugged. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist a peek.’
Sorry not sorry, as far as he could see.
This was so not Jenna. The way his heart punched like bullets in his chest wasn’t him. Agony. Desperate. ‘Right. I’ll make a start on the back door, okay?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’ She swallowed, turned and headed to the counter, her place of safety. The barrier she liked to put between herself and everyone else. ‘Er, give me a shout if you need me.’
I need you. Where the hell had that come from? ‘I won’t.’
He picked up the box, using it as his own barrier, and stalked on through to the office. The first bit was easy, just fixing the cameras to the walls and attaching wires to the locks, and as each moment passed, he managed to flush out some of the creeping lust.
The next bit was trickier because it involved sitting next to Jenna at the computer as he installed the software, something he couldn’t do without the password. She insisted on leaning over and tapping things on the keyboard. He closed his eyes as she leaned across him for the nth time. ‘Jenna, just tell me the details. I can input the data myself.’
‘It’s quicker if I just do it. You are woefully slow at typing.’ Her hair fell across his chest as she put her hands on the keyboard. Her scent—the flowers she spent every day with—filled the air. She was there. There.
And he had two options.
The first was to push back his chair and give her space. The second…
Well, he always was a man with a Plan B.
His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he reached out and stroked the back of her head, twisting his fingers into her hair tie and letting the topknot locks fall into his hands like ribbons of silk.
‘Nick?’ She turned, swivelling in the office chair to face him. The second time she said his name, it was on a moan. Undone. ‘Nick.’
/> ‘God. I can’t do this.’ All he’d wanted to do was make sure her shop was safe. Make sure she was safe. To protect her. And he should have been doing it now too, by walking away.
He didn’t want to acknowledge the emotions swimming in his chest. He let go of her hair. Went to stand. To leave. As per his OP. Job not quite done, he’d come back when she wasn’t here. Later.
But, first glancing to make sure the tent was out of view, she pushed him back down on the chair. Her eyes were filled with fire and fear and want. She shook her head. Sorry, not sorry. Then she climbed on to his lap, facing him, and took his face in her hands.
‘I can. I can do this,’ she whispered. Her gaze held his, and time seemed to stop and all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this melted away, replaced with feral and visceral sparks of pleasure and need. She was pretending to be cool and confident, but she was trembling as she lowered her mouth to his, and his self-control snapped, burnt out by the fire now raging inside him.
He tugged her to him, held her face fast as he kissed her, hard and hungry, and the bullets in his heart just kept coming rat-a-tat-tat as if firing holes into his ribcage. Then, as she slid her tongue into his mouth, those chinks in his chest were filled with heat and light and hunger. All his senses were aware of only her. Her smell. Her taste. The feel of her body against his.
He ran his hand over her dress, palmed her breast through the fabric. But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. One kiss, one touch, and he knew he’d never have enough of her.
He slipped his fingers into the soft cushion of her cleavage, caught the sweet tight bud of her nipple and damned near lost all control as she whimpered against him. His other hand went to the hem of her dress, and he slid his hand up her thigh. She straddled him, raising her hips, enabling his thumb to probe deeper. She was damp and ready for him.
And, God, it was too tempting to unzip and take her right now, but he wanted to take his time, to savour her. He wanted to slowly peel her clothes away, along with those layers of trepidation. He wanted to kiss her slowly, and quickly, and every way in between. He wanted… hell, he wanted her. Every smile, every heartbeat, every soft touch, every night and every sunrise.
She moaned into his mouth, grinding against him, and his erection strained. ‘Hey, hey. Good old army boy, standing to attention.’
He pulled away, laughing, trying to keep his voice down, his need down; because even out of view, there was a small child not ten metres away. He held Jenna by the shoulders, looking at her swollen lips, her dishevelled hair. God, she was even more beautiful undone. ‘Jenna? Is this really you?’
She seemed surprised to be acting like this, to being here on his lap. ‘I don’t know. But I like it.’
‘Me too.’
Nevertheless, he tugged up the straps of her dress back into pace and smoothed down her hair. ‘I want you, Jenna, but not here, not like this. Evie’s in there. Even if she’s asleep, it doesn’t feel right.’
‘You’re too good.’ She nodded, then climbed off his knees, laughing. ‘Oh, sorry, I must have stopped the circulation in your legs with my hefty backside.’
‘You have got to be joking.’ He grabbed it and squeezed, wishing he could be nestled into it. ‘My lap is its rightful place. Anytime.’ He laughed. ‘All the time.’
‘You mean that?’ She held his gaze. One moment. Two.
Did he mean that? All the time was a massive jump from two stolen kisses and a little play, but part of him wanted that. Yes. She made him smile, and he hadn’t done that for a long time.
The chatter of her daughter had them both turning towards the door. ‘Oh.’ Jenna looked conflicted. Turned on and maternal at the same time, which just made him turned on all the more. Here or there? ‘She’s awake.’
He tapped her backside. ‘Go to her.’
‘Yes. But she’s quiet for now. Look—’ Jenna took hold of his hand and bit down on her lip. Cautious. ‘Er…’
Ah, he joined the dots. Here came the flick off. Too complicated. Too much too soon. Too… everything. ‘Yes?’
Her eyes widened. ‘This friends thing isn’t working, is it?’
It was okay. She was right. It had been another foolish mistake, another step over the line. Although this time they were both smiling, and the aftermath wasn’t quite so awkward. In fact, there was no regret, just an unerring need to do it again. All the way. But friends didn’t do that. Right? ‘No. It really isn’t.’
She dropped his hand and threw him a smile over her shoulder as she walked to the door. ‘Thank God for that.’
*
Wow. Jenna internally fist-pumped as she wandered over to the tent. She’d done a Chloe and gone right in there to his mouth like a heat-seeking missile. And, even better, he’d indicated he wanted more. And he’d been concerned about Evie catching them or being left alone when other men would have disregarded her and led with their pants.
She bent to look into the tent. There Evie was, sitting up with Teddy, sleep still in her eyes. And a pen in her hand. ‘Hey, sweetie. You had a good sleep?’
‘Mamma?’
She’d been making out in the next room while her daughter slept in here. What the heck were they thinking?
But then, how the hell did anyone ever have siblings? Some kind of making out happened when kids were in the rooms next door.
The familiar surge of guilt hit her in the gut. ‘Yes, honey?’
‘I drew you a picture.’ Evie beamed, her chest almost as puffed as Nick’s had been earlier. From behind her back, Evie pulled out a black notepad.
‘What’s that?’ Jenna hadn’t seen that book before. She took a closer look and her heart rattled. ‘Oh my God. You drew in Nick’s work notepad?’
Three… things, drawn in heavy biro, looked a lot like sperms floating across the lined paper. A crude drawing of a hand across neat writing. She could see words underneath the wobbly sperm legs; names and dates and times in capital letters. This was evidence or something. To be used in court if need be. She knew that because she’d seen it on Line Of Duty.
Evie had drawn on evidence. Her gut contracted. Tight. Bloody, bloody hell.
‘Hey. All okay?’ He was standing behind her, his tone light. Not for long. ‘I should get going. It’s getting late.’
She crawled out of the tent. Gah, this was getting harder by the second. She couldn’t stop the wince as she faced him. ‘I’m so sorry, Nick. Evie drew in your work book.’
His eyebrows rose. He opened his mouth. Closed it. She could see the battle behind his eyes before he smiled. ‘Ah, okay. That’s… fine.’
It wasn’t. ‘Don’t you have to use these notebooks in case you have to give evidence or something?’
‘Yes.’ He took hold of Evie’s outstretched hand and kept on smiling as he turned the pages. Three pages of sperm things. The smile didn’t drop. He was always smiling when it came to these disasters. How could he smile when they’d just broken so many rules? But he was trying to remain calm in front of Evie, she realised. He didn’t want to make her feel bad. ‘Okay. Good pictures, Evie. They’re supposed to be issuing us with large screen smartphones, but for some reason, it hasn’t got round to our station yet.’
‘The sooner the better then.’
This time he turned to look at Jenna and his smile diminished. ‘Maybe not. She’ll be dialling in to the interview room and interrogating the criminals.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’ It served Jenna right for touching him, wanting to kiss him. Oh God, she’d kissed him again. He’d given her a chance to get out and she hadn’t taken it. She’d thought only of herself and her own needs and wants. She’d kissed him. And he’d kissed her back. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay. My fault. It must have dropped out of my pocket.’
It was both their faults. They should have been more careful. ‘Will you get into trouble?’
‘Probably. I’m sure it won’t matter in the long run.’ He gave a shrug that told her he was more upset abo
ut this than he was making out. He was the newbie trying to make a good impression, and this would count against him. He was probably cursing a thousand words under his breath.
Evie scowled. ‘It’s a picture, Mamma. Of you and dat man. In my family tree.’
They’d been doing a crude version of a family tree at nursery school. They’d drawn wobbly lines round their little hands and made branches out of their fingers. Stuck pictures of faces on fingertips. Nana. Aunty Chloe. Mamma. The teacher had explained that families were made up of all different kinds of people, and no two families were the same. But even so, Evie had asked why there were no men on the photos on her fingers.
Ollie didn’t count, apparently, because he was with the angels and not around at tea time. Or to read a story in a pop-up castle.
Jenna breathed out slowly. Ollie counted. But not as much as a real live person. Clearly.
‘Families. Look.’ Evie tiptoed to take the book from Nick and ran a chubby finger over one of her drawings, pointing first to the larger sperm. ‘Look, dat man.’
‘This is Nick?’
‘Yes. And this is Mamma. And me.’
Jenna started to feel a little sick. Nick looked like he did too. His eyes had lost not just the heat of before, but his general warmth too. He looked haunted. Hollowed out. She tried to make things clear. Crystal. ‘Nick’s not in our family, sweetie.’
Evie nodded. ‘But he’s nice.’ Out of the mouth of babes. The little girl sidled alongside him, her pigtails swinging, and slipped her tiny hand into his big one. ‘Come read the story again, Nick.’
Now he looked just plain scared.
Which was nothing compared to the panic in her gut. He was being backed into a corner and his reaction wasn’t pretty. What did that mean for what they’d just been doing in the office? ‘Yes, he is nice. But he’s not—’
‘I should go. I need to go, Evie. We’ll do another story time another day. Okay?’ He shook his head and eased the notepad out of Evie’s fingers and let go of her hand. His back was ramrod straight as he turned and grabbed his jacket. With another nod, he flicked the lock and was gone. Those chinks in his heart, that she’d thought she’d glimpsed, were well and truly closed over.
Something About You (Something Borrowed Series Book 2) Page 15