by Annie O'Neil
“Really?” Oliver propped up his head on an elbow and pushed himself up onto his side. “What sort of impression was that?”
“A favorable one.” She tried for an air of nonchalance but knew her body language was betraying her. A shift of the hips. A finger winding up a strand of hair. Thank goodness Oliver didn’t know about the fiery tingles working their slow and leisurely way through her body. As if she could be any easier to read.
“Are you still up for that game of backgammon?” Oliver pushed himself up from the sofa and offered her his hand.
Don’t take it. If you take it you might kiss him again. If you kiss him again you won’t be able to stop...
“Come here, you.”
Was he thinking what she was thinking?
Her lips parted.
He tipped his head down toward her.
He was thinking what she was thinking.
As Oliver pulled her into his arms, all the problems of the world, all of their sparring, the unanswered questions, the unknown of the future, just faded away. All that existed in the world was Oliver and the most languorous, deeply intentioned kisses she’d ever known. Her body responded intuitively to Oliver’s touch, barely giving her mind a moment to keep pace. She felt her arms slip up his chest and across his shoulders, tangling together in the soft, dark curls at the nape of his neck. Her back arched as she pressed into his chest, the slightest of shudders running down her spine as he spread his fingers along the small of her back.
His breath played along her neck as he gave her small, exploratory kisses along her jawline. A small “ooh,” escaped her lips as his mouth began to travel down her neck and farther down along to her collarbone, which he was exposing one delicious inch at a time. She wanted him. She had from the moment they’d met.
Without having noticed how they got there, Julia became aware of being in front of the fireplace. Oliver pulled back a bit, his hands holding her face so that it was impossible not to lose herself in his eyes.
“Do you want this to go further?”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her body was aching for Oliver’s, for more of his touch. Could she put aside the fact he’d made her no promises?
She physically desired him as she had no other man. If he decided to leave she knew in her soul she would never see him again. Never know the intimacy of his touch. If life had taught her anything, it was to seize the moment, and this could be one of her last with Oliver. They were adults, after all. Surely, one night wouldn’t change anything? Much. Would a nod suffice?
Oliver’s fingers teased at the buttons of her blouse as Julia stretched out on the silky Persian carpet, decision made. She wanted him. By the languorously slow caresses of his lips and fingertips, she could tell he too was fueled with the same powerful force of desire. It obliterated everything else. One by one the buttons of her top came undone, a finger straying here or there against her breasts, then her midriff, as he teasingly went about undressing her. He shifted a lock of hair away from her eyes and smiled softly before he began to kiss her again. Deeply, this time. Urgently.
Oh, this is nice.
No, it’s not! It’s naughty, the “lingerie catalog shoot” type of naughty. A mother of thirteen-year-old twins shouldn’t be— Ooh.
Then again, what’s so wrong with naughty?
Oliver stroked a hand up along Julia’s leg and under the hem of her skirt in one fluid motion, fingers playing along the lacy edges of her panties while he planted decidedly sensuous kisses along her belly. Her body arched into his caresses. He was obviously no stranger to a woman’s body, but each and every touch felt indescribably personal. Waves of desire surged through her as clothes were dispensed with, their movements becoming more fluid, almost synchronized in the instinctive hunger to please the other. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, stifling her moans of pleasure as they joined together, her body alive and blazing with desire for him. Never before had she wanted someone so badly.
Conflicting thoughts flittered out of her mind as Oliver’s touch became more pressing. She wanted him. She’d desired him on a primal level from the moment she’d seen him. That wasn’t quite right.
Felt him.
And feeling him now, as she slipped her fingers along the bare skin of his back, skimming lightly along his waistline onto his hips—warm, responsive, impassioned—she wanted nothing more than to be with Oliver, no matter what tomorrow might bring.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I THOUGHT I’D find you here.” Oliver’s crooked grin crept round the corner of her small clinic office. “You just disappeared this morning.”
“You know what they say,” Julia tried to chirp back. “Up with the lark and all that!”
“I hate to leave you on your own here, but I told my father I would meet up with the accountants today. Stop putting off the inevitable.”
“Oh, that’s great!” she lied. Julia’s mind was still a muddle of fireside love-making, king-size bed passion and about the sexiest bubble bath she’d ever taken before drifting off to sleep in Oliver’s arms. A handful of hours later, her eyes had snapped wide-open—all too aware she had just taken a swan dive into a world of unknowns.
Jumping into the arms of the one man who held your fate in his hands? Talk about the number one no-no in the bad decisions department.
Oh, but it had been good. Better than good. An involuntary shiver slipped along her spine, irritatingly spooling into a warm pool below her belly.
“So, I’ll see you up there later?”
“Where?” He doesn’t think we’re going to make love again, does he? Not that she’d mind... No! Stop that, Julia.
“You said you’d go over the books with me after the clinic shuts. Help me figure out which way the land lies for ol’ Bryar Estate.”
He must’ve read the poorly disguised dismay on her face. “You’re not going back on it, are you?”
“Of course not!” Julia plastered a smile onto her face as her stomach clenched, sending a sour ache through her body. Last night had been about the most sensually bewitching blunder she’d ever made. For Oliver? Obviously a passing fancy to fill the time while he was wrapping things up at Bryar Hall. What an idiot! Brainy and no-nonsense were the last things she was feeling.
What did you do when you’d just slept with the one man standing in the way of your personal and professional goals? Particularly when he was standing right in front of you looking all deliciously tousle-haired and green-eyed. Didn’t he know looking this sexy was outrageously inconsiderate?
“I wouldn’t dream of letting you down. A deal’s a deal.”
“You’re sure?” He didn’t look like he was buying it.
Stiff upper lip? Check. Smile in the face of adversity? Check. Comment about the weather?
“It’s a perfect day for it.”
“April showers...” he began to riposte then petered out, visibly aware Julia’s words weren’t ringing true with her demeanor.
Julia felt perilously off-balance, as though she was walking a conversational tightrope.
“Bring on those May flowers!” There. Was that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed enough?
“I’ll catch you later up at the house, all right? I’ll just pop in on Dr. Carney before I go.”
She kept her focus on the chart she’d been updating. “He’s sleeping. Probably best to leave him be. I’ll let him know you asked after him.” Oops. There went the “Miss Congeniality” prize.
“What’s going on, Julia?”
“Nothing, just a lot to do today.”
Oliver stepped into the office and turned her, chair and all, toward him. “Spill it, MacKenzie.”
“What’s the point?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, don’t get all upper-crusty on me. You know what’s going on as well as I do.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise. Oh. Maybe he didn’t.
“I saw the estate appraiser’s car pull up to the house this morning.” She
let the words sink in. “So, I know this—this thing between us—is just a time-filler for you. You’d never planned to stay, so it doesn’t matter what I think of the books.”
His eyes opened wide and any warmth she’d seen in them vanished. “I think you know me a little better than to be a love ’em and leave ’em type, Julia.”
She stared at him, suddenly feeling as though she was looking at a stranger. A stranger she could have loved if only absolutely everything about their lives had been different.
“Do I?”
“Yes,” he answered solidly. “You do. But you know as well as I do, the last thing I’ve been paying attention to these past few weeks is the estate. If I’m going to get a true understanding of the place, I have to have solid facts and figures. What if it’s a money pit? There’s no point in hanging on to something that isn’t sustainable.”
Julia looked at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. Did he mean her or the estate?
Oliver straightened, but his voice had softened. “You know we’re not talking about you and me here, right?”
“Of course I do.” The burning in her cheeks began to flush her throat.
He tried to give her shoulders a rub, but it was impossible not to stiffen under his touch. “Hey,” he continued softly. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if your opinion didn’t matter, but we can’t ignore reality, can we?”
She shook her head. Talking would’ve betrayed the tremble she felt building in her throat.
“C’mon, Julia. This is a big decision for me. I thought you were my sensible someone.”
“Maybe not so sensible after all.” Her eyes darted away from his. It felt as though her heart would break.
She dropped her head into her hands and pulled her hair into a taut ponytail, as if the tightness on her scalp would help her think more clearly. She’d been an idiot to think she could sleep with him then just carry on as if nothing had happened. Everything had changed. She was in love with Oliver. Sensible and pragmatic were the last things she was feeling.
“Apologies.” Julia shook her head and tried to flush the emotion from her voice. “I must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Catch you later?”
* * *
Oliver let go of the door frame after unsuccessfully trying to catch Julia’s eye one last time. This was not how he’d envisioned “the morning after.” Not even close.
“See you later, then.” He left the clinic and jumped into his car, his jaw tightening as he pushed the car into gear. It didn’t sit well. Leaving things like this with Julia.
He slapped at the steering wheel in frustration. If this wasn’t just another piece of proof nothing could go right at Bryar Hall, he didn’t know what it was.
Julia was the best thing to have happened to him in he didn’t know how long. They made a genuinely good team on so many fronts. Working, talking, laughing. She was someone he could be silly with, for heaven’s sake.
Love-making. There was no comparison.
Why had he met her here of all places? They were a natural fit. In more ways than one.
Was he falling for her? No; too late for that sort of reflection. He’d already taken the final steps off the cliff edge. He’d well and truly fallen. His fingers did an agitated dance on the steering wheel.
Think, Oliver. Think.
There were ways around this. Life wasn’t static.
She could join him in South Sudan. They always needed new doctors. Together they would make an impressive team.
No. He shook his head. The children. She wouldn’t think for a minute of leaving the children.
What else could he do to be with her? He couldn’t bear the thought of proving her right—being so intimate, so perfectly in body and spirit, then leaving her. He knew they’d only just begun to scratch the surface of something truly beautiful. Beautiful. That was what a life with Julia could be.
The obvious solution began to prod and goad him as he drove past the large washes of daffodils, the espaliered avenue of blossoming fruit trees, and pulled up in front of the house where he had only recently known so much joy was possible. He stared at the house, willing it to give him the answer he wanted.
Could he forgive himself for Alexander’s death? That was at the heart of it. Without doing so, Bryar Hall could never be his home.
* * *
The scent of freshly baked shortbread drew Julia into the library. Oliver was already in there, head bent over a pile of ledgers and looking...what was that expression, exactly? She tilted her head to get a glimpse of his expression. “Not very happy” would’ve been a pretty big understatement.
Perhaps she’d been too brusque with him this morning. They had flown straight into the intimacy stratosphere the night before and coming down off a high like that had been one heck of jolt. If he’d had any idea of the jumble of thoughts she’d been trying to put into order today, he would’ve placed her on Burke’s peerage—directly under Right Old Royal Mess.
“Shortbread?” Oliver looked up as she approached.
Yup. He still took her breath away.
“You’ve been hard at work.” Her fingers played along the edges of the wooden table, unsure of what sort of mood he was in.
“No more than usual.”
Oh. His manner was short, miles away from the man who had flowed with mischievous whispers and throaty groans the night before.
“Oliver, I wanted to apologize for this morning, I—”
“No need,” Oliver interrupted, his tone curt, officious. “We’re all busy. Can I get you a chair?” He pointedly laid down his pen and looked directly into her eyes. If she hadn’t been so hurt by the absence of affection in them she would’ve laughed. Bitterly. What a difference a day makes, eh?
“I’ll get one myself.” She pulled a straight-backed chair over from the other side of the long mahogany table where he was working and set it beside him. The slight twitch he gave as she sat down told her he was as aware of her as she was of him. It was as though the energy from their bodies couldn’t resist joining together with a magnetic pull. Chemistry united them. Fate seemed determined to intervene.
She pulled her chair back a few inches. That was better. Just.
Now, if she could just get her head to reason with the dance floor full of jitterbugs making their way round her tummy, she’d be a content woman.
Ha-ha ha-ha! Good one.
She snuck another peek at him. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. Surely she could be objective about this perfect mix of sexy, smart and rakish adventurer? He was made of the same stuff everybody else was, right?
Her heart refused to agree. It skipped a bit. Then cinched.
Nope.
No chance of being objective. He was perfect. Even if he was actively ignoring her. She stopped a building sigh from escaping her lips. It looked like he was revving up to give her some bad news. She better get in with her news before he told her his.
“Oliver—”
“Julia—”
“After you.”
“Please.” Oliver gave her a look. An “I’m not in the mood” look. “Go ahead.”
How on earth do I do this?
You just breathe. Then you exhale. Then you do it.
“I’ve just had a call from my children’s school.” Uh-oh! There go the raised eyebrows. Keep talking, keep talking! “I’m afraid I muddled up their holiday dates and I need to collect them from the train station.”
“Oh, yes?” He gave her an inscrutable look. “When’s that, then?”
“Tonight.”
“What’s on tonight?”
Julia turned to see the duke had just entered the library, a book tucked under his arm, his aging chocolate Labrador at his knee.
“Julia’s children are going to be joining us for the spring holidays a bit earlier than expected.” Oliver answered for her, rising to greet his father.
“Oh, splendid. I did have such a lovely time with the twins over the Christmas holidays.” He t
urned to Julia, openly delighted. “What good news!”
“Oh, really?” Oliver gave her a bemused glance. “You all had Christmas together, then?”
Julia’s eyes ping-ponged between the pair, her teeth pressing so hard into her lip it was in danger of being bitten clean off. If Oliver had caught her off-guard with his estate business, she’d opened a cupboard full of info he didn’t have.
“Yes, didn’t I say?” Oliver’s father clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, old chap. I thought I’d put it in a letter to you. Your mother was always much better at that sort of thing. You know what they say about short-term memory for us old fellows.” He turned back to Julia with a warm smile. “They’ll be staying here in the house, then, this time?”
“I—I’m not—”
“Of course they will,” Oliver finished smoothly. “Dr. MacKenzie’s children are most welcome at Bryar Hall.”
She swallowed. Hard. He’d been hurt. Life had gone on at Bryar Hall and left a grieving Oliver in its wake.
“Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” Oliver replied, moving to the desk as he did. He pointedly closed an open ledger and turned to her. “Bryar Hall has always opened her doors to visitors.”
Youch. So that was what she was, then. A visitor.
It seemed as though Oliver was taking the news of her children coming a few days early a lot worse than she thought he would. Or was she taking everything personally again? He had looked far from cheery when she’d come into the library. Were the ledgers full of doom and gloom? Had he been on the brink of telling her the place had to go? She tried to catch his eye, desperate to find out what was going on.
“Sorry to have interrupted.” The duke placed his book on a side table. “Just dropping this by then Barney and I are going for a walk.”
“I think I’ll join you, Father.” Oliver didn’t even bother to give Julia a second glance. “I could do with a change of scene.”
* * *
Julia closed the door to her bedroom, no longer fighting the temptation to cry. She loved her children dearly and needed to clear her clutter of mixed emotions before they arrived. Ella and Henry had had enough to deal with over the past year and a half—losing Matt, moving schools, having to make new friends. The last thing she wanted was for them to feel unwelcome in the place she had hoped they could call home.