Passionate Protectors?

by Anne Mather

  Kyle sucked in an astonished breath. No wonder the males in the sports car had screeched to a halt in front of her! He could barely swallow over the dryness in his throat. Every night he went to bed and dreamed of her, and for the past three months, after getting over the initial, most immediate shock of her departure, he had been trying to capture her likeness on his canvas. Now he saw that he’d failed, and failed miserably. Not even his clever instinctive brushstrokes could do her incandescent beauty justice.

  ‘Hello.’ Her smile was shy and immediately brought Kyle to his knees. There were so many things he wanted to say, but right now he couldn’t think of one—except the obvious…and probably the most inane.

  ‘Hello, yourself.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you.’ She pinned him with a surprisingly direct gaze, dark eyes wide.

  ‘It’s been three months, Megan. What have you been doing with yourself? Apart from stopping traffic, that is…’

  She blushed. Oh, how he loved to see her blush. ‘I’ve been painting. I enrolled in a life-drawing class and an art appreciation one. I’ve also been to some galleries and I’ve seen some of your work—Kyle, it’s amazing!’

  Right now, he didn’t want to hear her appreciation. Right now, he wanted to know what the hell she thought she was playing at, strolling without warning casually back into his life on a Sunday morning as if she’d just popped out to the shops for a pint of milk. Three months ago she’d left him stranded in Lyme Regis with a heart that was broken in two and not so much as the tiniest clue as to whether she intended to come back to him or not. He’d done the honourable thing by letting her go, but it hadn’t eased his pain—not one jot.

  ‘You were hardly limping,’ he remarked, the pain in his throat so acute he had to swallow carefully to try and ease it.

  ‘I know! I can hardly believe it myself. I’ve been having regular reflexology treatments, along with some aromatherapy massage, and what with my painting and my classes and thinking more positively—’ She flushed pink, as if embarrassed by her unstoppable flow of words. ‘Well—everything just seems to be coming together.’

  ‘I’m happy for you. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.’

  Had she just come to tell him her good news? To demonstrate that her life had taken on a much more positive direction since walking out on him, and please could he just forget the fact that she’d broken his heart and wish her all the best? Kyle was strong, but even his psyche couldn’t bear the impossible. The ache in his chest was like a steel band crushing him.

  He slapped his newspaper against his thigh, then forced a reluctant smile. ‘I knew it would all work out for you one day, Megan.’

  ‘But it couldn’t have worked out at all without you!’ A pained expression in her dark brown eyes, she looked at him aghast—as if suddenly aware of what he might be thinking. ‘You taught me so much. You made me believe I had talent, that there was more to myself than any hurt or condition. And you helped me see that through my art I could get better. I shouldn’t have walked away like I did, Kyle. Believe me, I didn’t want to. But I was scared too—and so—so jealous.’

  He frowned. ‘Jealous?’

  ‘Of Christa. Of any woman you ever looked at! I was so scared that if I stayed you would soon get bored with me and look elsewhere. I didn’t think I could ever be good enough for you. Especially when you told me you were well known. When I thought about what that might mean I—I just didn’t want to let you down—hold you back in any way. I had so many insecurities, Kyle. My past just didn’t prepare me for someone like you—’ She broke off, biting her lip, her desperate gaze examining him feature by beloved feature.

  Kyle was busy trying to absorb what she had just told him. A muscle ticked in the side of his bronzed cheek. What was she trying to say, exactly? That she’d made a mistake? That she wanted to come back to him? He hardly dared hope. Yet hope was the one thing he had held onto in these three long months he had been without her. He would wait, he’d told himself time and time again, when wanting her and not having her had gone way past intolerable. He’d wait for ever if he had to.

  He shifted from one booted foot to the other as his hazel eyes hungrily absorbed her beautiful face, his heart aching. ‘Even when I told you I loved you?’ he asked huskily.

  Megan was caught in a paroxysm of guilt. Her expression torn, she lifted her hand and tucked a few glossy strands of hair behind her ear. They slipped forward again almost immediately.

  ‘I needed to try and put a few things right in my life before I could accept your love,’ she admitted softly. ‘You did so much for me. I wanted to do something good in return. I wanted to be a person you could be proud to be with—not a self-loathing victim of a disastrous marriage. At the point that I walked out all I could feel was fear. Time and distance helped me see things more clearly. I went to Rhodes with Penny on holiday. I pushed myself. In Lindos I climbed every one of several hundred steps to reach the acropolis and sketch it, and I didn’t let my limp stop me. I’ve learned a lot, Kyle, especially about self-imposed limitations, and it’s all thanks to you. Is it—I mean, do you think there’s even the faintest chance that we might try again? You indicated there might be…’

  Pinning her with an unwavering golden glance for several long seconds, Kyle seemed to be preparing his answer. Megan must have died at least a thousand deaths as she waited for him to reply. Finally, he smiled, and Megan let go of the breath she’d been holding, relief shooting through her system like adrenaline.

  ‘You going somewhere else, or would you like to come in for coffee?’ he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

  ‘I’d like to come in, certainly.’ Heart racing, Megan took a step towards him, the two thin gold hoops in her lobes peeping through her curtain of dark hair. ‘But not for coffee.’

  She glanced up at him through lashes so luxuriant it ought to be a crime, and the look she gave him was anything but coy. It was the bold, confident glance of a woman who wanted her man and wasn’t afraid to show it. The realisation sent all the blood rushing to his loins.

  ‘You have changed,’ he said softly in approval.

  ‘If I have, it’s because I love you.’ Sighing deeply, she climbed up the second stair that brought her right up close to his chest, and without another word laid her head gently against his black cashmere sweater—for just a brief second or two terrified that he might reject her after all. But after everything she had been through she was going for broke, and didn’t care who knew it. She loved him. She loved him so damn much she’d risk anything to prove it. Even humiliation.

  But Kyle had no intention of rejecting her—not now, not ever. Dropping his newspaper onto the ground, he swept his arms tightly around her. ‘I’ve waited three months to hear you say those words, you little witch, and every day was like a lifetime!’

  Burying his lips in her hair, he murmured her name over and over, at the same time fumbling for his key in his jacket pocket like a man possessed. When his fingers finally closed around it he jammed it into the lock and, turning it swiftly, pushed Megan into the shadowy recess of the hallway. Cupping her face between his hands, he urged her up against the wall, his warm breath feathering across her face.

  ‘So what other changes should I know about?’ he asked softly, the corners of his beautiful mouth lifting in a smile.

  ‘Well…’ Deliberately coy, Megan dipped her head and began unbuttoning her bold red jacket. ‘I’ve started buying much sexier new lingerie. Do you want a peek?’

  His hands were already pushing her jacket off her shoulders and his tawny eyes went dark as night as they came to settle on the satiny black camisole edged with lace she was wearing underneath. It was the kind of flimsy wispy slip of a thing that on a body like Megan’s could put a man in a serious fever just thinking about her wearing it, and Kyle was already so turned on that if he moved too suddenly he might embarrass himself badly.

  ‘Megan,’ he groaned as he drove his fingers through her hair then, loweri
ng his head, slid his mouth across hers and kissed her hard.

  Everything melted inside Megan. Desire turned her blood to boiling as his hands slid down to her hips and jerked her towards his pelvis. She bit back a gasp at the extent of his arousal and knew it wasn’t likely they’d even make it to the bedroom. Still, what was a good wall for?

  Her chest suddenly tight with emotion, she wrested her mouth reluctantly free from his and forced him to look at her. ‘I’m sorry I left you. I’ll never leave you again. Never! Oh, God, I love you so much!’ Her dark eyes shimmered like onyx jewels as she gazed up at the man who meant the world to her. The man who was an answer to a dream she hadn’t even known she had until she met him.

  ‘I took a big gamble, letting you go…I just thank God you came back to me.’ His voice a grated whisper, Kyle’s hands settled round the firm flesh on her upper arms and tightened as if to demonstrate the force of his feelings. ‘Will you marry me, Megan?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday wouldn’t be soon enough.’ He pressed a warm kiss to her temple.

  ‘That soon, huh?’

  ‘That soon.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Dark eyes shining, she dropped her own suddenly shy kiss at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Now we’ve established the important stuff—I’d like to get back to the other subject you were just discussing…’

  ‘Oh? What subject was that?’ Megan dimpled provocatively up at him.

  ‘The subject of your underwear, you little minx.’

  ‘Oh.’ She blushed prettily.

  ‘Does what you’re wearing underneath match this dangerous little item you’re wearing on top?’ Deliberately methodical, Kyle slipped one of the silky shoestring straps off her shoulder, his gaze feasting on one full, lightly tanned breast revealed in all its glory with its puckered caramel tip as sheer black satin glided effortlessly downwards.

  Catching her breath, Megan chewed slightly on her lip before answering. ‘It would if I was wearing it,’ she told him breathlessly.

  Epilogue

  A SMALL crowd had gathered round the picture Kyle had labelled Magic in Mind, and amidst the chinking of wine glasses, conversational tones and complimentary ‘ahhs’ Demetri Papandreou slapped his good friend heartily on the back.

  ‘You know you have surpassed yourself with that portrait, huh? Only a man in love could paint such a picture. Such fire, such passion, such beauty in her eyes! A man could die happy loving a woman like that. I am mad at you for finding her first, but so pleased that you have found someone at last. I think it has really helped you as an artist. You are coming into your true potential, my friend, and I find it simply staggering.’

  Kyle lifted his wine glass and took an experimental sip of the Dom Perignon Demi had flown in specially from Paris to mark the occasion of what Kyle meant to be his last exhibition. After this he was going to concentrate on art therapy.

  Working with art was a fantastic training in building confidence in essential strength and health, and Kyle wanted to impart that to as many people who needed to get the message as possible. Along with that particular venture, he also wanted to spend some time helping Megan fulfil her own dream.

  He shouldn’t be feeling so self-satisfied but, damn it all, he was! Demi was right. A year into his marriage and he had somehow struck a deep vein of gold in his work that he could only wonder at. But then all he had to do was look at Megan to find the reason for his newfound ability. Every day of his life she inspired him. All he had to do was wake in the morning to find her warm sexy body snuggling up next to his and he was a man on a mission. Let them look…he thought magnanimously as he watched the enthusiastic little throng milling round the portrait. I can go home to the real thing.

  Talking of which—where was Megan? He’d told her to be at the gallery around seven and it was already half past. Glancing anxiously across the heads of people milling round the paintings, he strained to see the glass doors. There were more people coming in, and one of Demi’s penguin-suited cohorts was at the door greeting them, ensuring they possessed the right credentials because the exhibition was by invitation only.

  Then he saw her. The sheen of her glossy black hair, caught by the carefully arranged artificial lighting, drew his gaze like a magnet. She was wearing a tailored cream trouser suit with a silky camisole to match beneath the vee of her jacket, and Kyle’s weren’t the only eyes to mark her entrance and stand and stare. But there was another reason besides her captivating beauty that Kyle followed her progress so intently, and that reason was bundled up tenderly in her arms.

  Rosy Yvette—their daughter. Born just three months ago, after a textbook-perfect pregnancy and a labour and birth that had lasted just six hours from start to finish. Not bad for a first full-term pregnancy. The midwife had informed them that Megan’s second would probably be even swifter.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ Reaching him, Megan angled her cheek for a kiss, startled and pleased when his lips descended on her mouth instead. She clung briefly, heat stirring as it always did whenever she set eyes on her handsome husband, then, conscious they were being observed, blushed becomingly and gave her baby a comforting pat across the soft white shawl that swathed her. ‘I know I said I’d leave her with your mother, but she wouldn’t settle and in the end I just had to bring her. Do you mind?’

  ‘Give her to me.’ Tenderly, Kyle lifted the baby from her mother’s arms to cradle her lovingly in his own. A series of approving ‘ahhs’ fell around him like confetti. Inside, his heart and his chest swelled with pride.

  ‘If little Rosy is destined to be half as beautiful as her mother, then you will have your work as a father cut out for you, my friend.’ Demi beamed from Megan to Kyle with glee. ‘You will have to chase the boys away from the door with a shotgun!’

  Later, when the gallery had thinned of people a little, Megan leaned into Kyle’s quiet strength, her senses swirling with the indomitable scent of man and cologne as he cradled their precious babe. Drop-dead gorgeous didn’t begin to describe him, she thought. In his black leather trousers, white silk shirt and maroon velvet jacket, his chestnut hair gleaming beneath the lights and making his eyes appear even more golden than usual, Megan was so proud of him she was fit to burst.

  ‘They like your picture, then?’ She nodded towards the portrait that still drew an admiring crowd. Every facet of it was known to her in minute detail, from the lovely white antique lace nightgown that the lady wore to the knowing intimate smile on her lips and the loving glance that was purely for her husband alone.

  ‘Your picture, sweetheart.’ Kyle adjusted his daughter more snugly against his body, then slid his free arm possessively round Megan.

  ‘Are you going to sell it to Demi?’ she asked evenly, trying her best to shield her sudden anxiety from his knowing gaze.

  The muscle in his cheek jumped as though she’d suggested something faintly improper. ‘Are you joking? This one is definitely staying in the family…where it belongs. And next year, Angel—it will be your turn.’

  Megan’s heart accelerated a little at the thought of exhibiting her work like this, but she had made progress in leaps and bounds during her pregnancy, and with Kyle’s guidance knew that one day—and one day soon—she too would be proud to say she earned her living as an artist. But right now, her heart full as she contemplated her adoring husband and baby, she knew she’d already been blessed with more gifts than she could ever have dreamed of.

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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  First published in Great Britain 2010

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  PASSIONATE PROTECTORS?

  © by Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l 2010

  Hot Pursuit, The Bedroom Barter and A Passionate Protector were first published in Great Britain by Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited in separate, single volumes.

  Hot Pursuit © Anne Mather 2002

  The Bedroom Barter © Sara Craven 2003

  A Passionate Protector © Maggie Cox 2003

  ISBN: 978-1-408-91562-2