‘Too late for second thoughts now, Mia,’ Ethan drawled as he obviously saw those doubts in her expression. He got out of the car before coming round and opening the passenger door for her. ‘There’s something I need to … discuss with you this evening, anyway.’
‘What is it?’ Mia frowned slightly as she got out of the car to stand beside Ethan on the pavement, at the same time looking for her keys in her oversized handbag.
‘It would be better if we talked inside.’ Ethan took the keys from her hand before placing a hand firmly beneath her elbow and walking her to the door at the back of the coffee shop.
‘Ethan …?’
Ethan regretted the tension he could hear in Mia’s tone now. She had already known too much unhappiness in her twenty-five years, and although Ethan still couldn’t approve of the way she had cut her father—and him—out her life, he could at least acknowledge that she had found a degree of peace in the running of her coffee shop.
A peace and contentment he knew he was about to destroy …
He turned the key in the lock and ushered Mia inside, to close the door firmly behind them before handing the keys back to her. ‘Do you have any wine to go with the chicken?’
‘Do I need to have …?’
‘It wouldn’t do any harm.’
She gave a pained frown. ‘I have some white wine, yes.’
‘Then I suggest we open a bottle or two and have a glass or six.’ He nodded grimly in the direction of the stairs leading up to her apartment.
Mia looked even more wary as she began to walk up the stairs. ‘That bad, hmm?’
Probably, Ethan acknowledged as he followed a short distance behind her. He should have realised there was no easy way he could do this—that his teasing earlier, the idea of taking Mia out to dinner, would ultimately make no difference to the shock he was about to deliver.
He could put it off for a few days’ more. Didn’t have to have this conversation with Mia now …
‘Okay, Ethan.’ Mia handed him one of the two glasses of white wine she had poured as he stood lost in thought in the doorway of her small kitchen. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘This apartment is a little … small, isn’t it?’
‘After living in a mansion—several mansions all over the world—until I was twenty, you mean?’ she retorted.
‘Well … yes.’ He grimaced.
Mia shrugged. ‘I’ve been happier here than I ever was in any of those places.’
‘But surely you don’t bake in here?’ He frowned at the smallness of the kitchen.
The pine kitchen was compact, Mia acknowledged, only really big enough for one person to move about in comfortably. And, as Ethan had pointed out, it was certainly not big enough for the amount of baking Mia did on a daily basis. All of which was a total irrelevance …
‘I use the industrial equipment in the kitchen downstairs,’ she dismissed. ‘And delaying answering me isn’t going to sugar-coat whatever the pill is, Ethan!’
No, it wasn’t, Ethan accepted heavily. He just wished he didn’t have to do this. That there was some other way.
Mia’s stubborn refusal even to discuss seeing William again meant there was no other way! She had given Ethan no choice but to do what he was about to do. Even if he might wish it could be otherwise.
He drew in a harsh breath. ‘I need to talk to you about the reason for your father’s heart attack—’
‘I think you had better leave after all, Ethan,’ she cut in quickly.
Ethan stood firm in the doorway. ‘I’m not going anywhere until we’ve talked this through.’
‘Then I will!’ Her eyes flashed darkly as she brushed past him. ‘Go away, Ethan,’ she said dully as he followed her through to the adjoining sitting room.
A stylish and yet comfortable room, its walls were painted a pale cream. There was a deep peach-coloured carpet, paler peach sofa and chairs, and light pine furniture. The prints on the walls reflected that colour scheme.
Ethan took all of this in at a glance, before his attention focused on the defensive woman who stood so tense and pale beside the unlit fireplace, drinking her wine as she met his gaze with fearless challenge.
Mia had never looked more beautiful!
That wispy golden hair was like a halo about the angles and hollows of Mia’s face, that sinuously graceful body—pert breasts, slender waist, curvaceous thighs—tensed as if for a fight.
Ethan determinedly dampened down that stirring desire as his mouth firmed with new resolve. ‘Whether you like it or not, we do have to talk about William’s heart attack.’
‘I don’t have to talk to you about anything, Ethan. Least of all my father,’ Mia told him with scornful dismissal.
‘Yes—you—do.’
‘You can insist all you like, Ethan, but it will ultimately make no difference,’ she said calmly. ‘I just don’t want to hear anything you have to say on that subject.’
‘I didn’t want it to be like this—’ Ethan gave a frustrated shake of his head. ‘Maybe I should just show you?’ He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket.
Mia eyed him warily now. ‘Show me what?’
‘I have some photographs—’
‘More? Are they something different this time? I’m really not in the mood to look at happy-ever-after snaps from the family album, Ethan!’
‘There’s nothing in the least happy-ever-after about these photographs.’ He held an envelope in his hand now, knuckles showing white as he gripped that envelope tightly.
Mia’s tension increased as she looked at Ethan searchingly and saw the grimness of his expression and the regret in those otherwise chilling grey eyes. Her hand shook slightly as she took another hesitant sip of her wine before answering him. ‘What do you have in there, Ethan?’ she prompted slowly, eyeing the envelope as if it were a bomb about to go off.
Which, considering Ethan’s obvious tension, might indeed prove to be the case …
His expression became even grimmer. ‘Did you read in the newspapers six months ago, or see on the news, that a woman’s body was found in a ditch in Cornwall?’
Mia rarely watched television, but she vaguely recalled reading something about that in the newspapers—yes, the badly decomposed body of a young woman had been found in a ditch but and remained unidentified for several weeks while the police continued their investigation.
Mia raised her stricken gaze to look sharply across the room at Ethan. ‘Are you telling me—? Is it possible that my father may have thought—’
‘Yes,’ Ethan confirmed heavily. ‘As soon as he saw the news on the television William contacted the police, explained the situation of your disappearance almost five years earlier, and asked if he could see the body.’
Mia felt herself sway dizzily. ‘And they let him …?’
‘No, they refused to allow that—wanted positive proof from dental records before they would allow anyone to view the body,’ Ethan bit out grimly. ‘But William, being William, wouldn’t let it go, and he eventually managed—don’t ask me how!—to acquire some photographs he could look at.’
Her gaze returned as if mesmerised to the envelope Ethan held so tightly in his hand. ‘And that’s them?’
‘Some of them, yes.’ Ethan nodded abruptly. ‘Of course they proved by dental records a couple of days later that it was the body of someone else, but for over twenty-four hours William was left with the terrible thought that it might be you.’
‘Let me see the photographs, Ethan.’
‘Now that you’re at least listening to me there’s no reason for you to upset yourself by looking at them.’
‘Don’t.’ Mia stopped Ethan as he would have put the envelope back in his pocket, putting her glass carefully down onto the glass-topped coffee table before holding out her hand. ‘Give me the envelope, Ethan.’ Her gaze was very clear and very determined as it met his. ‘I want to see what my father saw.’
‘There’s no need for this, Mia—’
‘If, as you seem to be implying, they were the reason for my father’s heart attack, then I believe there’s every need.’
‘He collapsed only half an hour after looking at them—so, yes, I think we can safely assume it was the shock of thinking you were dead that triggered it.’ Ethan could still clearly remember his own shocked disbelief and pain as they had waited for confirmation as to whether or not the woman in those photographs was Mia …
Mia felt slightly numb, and yet at the same time her thoughts were crystal-clear: if what Ethan said was true—and he could have no reason to lie to her when what he said could so easily be disproved—then, as Ethan had claimed yesterday, her disappearance really had been the reason for her father’s heart attack six months ago …
‘I want to see them.’ Her gaze remained steady on Ethan’s as she continued to hold out her hand. ‘I need to see them, Ethan.’ Her voice shook despite her determination. ‘Please.’
It was hearing that break in Mia’s voice—the first crack Ethan had detected in the walls she had built about her emotions this past five years—that finally gave Ethan hope that she might still care something for William after all.
He grimaced. ‘They really aren’t pleasant,’ he warned grimly as he reluctantly handed her the envelope.
Ethan watched warily as she opened it and slid out the half a dozen photographs inside before looking down. A single glance at the top photograph was enough to drain all the colour from her cheeks, her skin actually seemed to turn a sickly grey as she quickly flicked through the rest of the photographs before allowing them to slip from her fingers to fall unheeded to the carpeted floor.
‘Damn it to hell …!’ Ethan stepped forward.
‘Ethan, unless you want me to be sick all over you, I suggest you get out of my way!’ Mia warned between gritted teeth.
One look at the green tinge to her cheeks was enough to make Ethan step aside, his face grim, as he watched Mia almost run out of the sitting room and into a room further down the hallway—obviously the bathroom—before closing the door and locking it firmly behind her.
Not that Ethan could blame her—he’d had the same reaction himself the first time he’d looked at those photographs and thought that it was Mia …
CHAPTER SIX
IT DIDN’T take Mia long to dispose of the contents of her stomach—she had been too busy in the coffee shop today to have time to eat properly, and obviously hadn’t had dinner yet. Which was probably as well in the circumstances.
The photographs Ethan had shown her were—they were—
Oh, God, how must her father have felt? How would any parent feel when faced with such horrific images of a—a thing that might once have been their child? If her father had believed even briefly that young woman’s body might be her—
‘Are you okay, Mia?’ A soft knock on the door accompanied Ethan’s concerned query.
Was she okay? She had just been physically ill after being so horrified by those photographs. And she was still horrified at the thought of her father having looked at those images and believing for even one moment that it might be her.
As Ethan had intended she should be?
‘Mia?’ There was no missing the strain in Ethan’s voice.
Mia straightened with determination. ‘I’m fine, Ethan,’ she answered firmly as she moved to the sink to throw cold water on her face before brushing her teeth, her hands shaking slightly. Her reflection in the mirror over the sink showed that her eyes were darkly shadowed and her face sickly pale.
She still had no idea what she wanted to do about seeing her father again—couldn’t even think straight enough at the moment to come up with a logical answer to that question. In fact she didn’t want to think at all right now. She, needed—needed—
‘Mia, if you don’t open this door immediately I’m going to kick it down!’ Ethan warned impatiently.
She needed a complete diversion from everything that had happened here so far this evening!
Mia felt calm, and her hands were no longer trembling as she unlocked and opened the door to look up at Ethan. He had obviously been running agitated fingers through the short thickness of his hair. Several dark strands were falling across his forehead, tempting Mia into wanting to reach up and brush those silky locks off his brow.
‘Mia …?’ He eyed her uncertainly as she stood un-moving in the doorway. ‘Can I get you anything? Some more wine? Maybe chocolate? I seem to remember they were the things you wanted when you were upset …’
Yes, they had been. Whenever university work had seemed daunting, when worry over her mother, or anything else had bothered her, Mia had always turned to chocolate or wine—or both—to ward off that worry.
That Ethan remembered that too was disconcerting …
Ethan gave a pained wince as looked down at her. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t have used those shock tactics—’ He stopped speaking as Mia placed her fingertips across his lips. ‘You don’t want me to apologise …?’ He eyed her guardedly.
She gave a brief smile. ‘Oh, I do, Ethan. I’m just not interested in verbal apologies at the moment.’
He became very still, his gaze guarded as he looked down at her searchingly. Her eyes were a clear and direct green as she returned his gaze unflinchingly.
‘How about a non-verbal one?’ he said slowly. ‘I seem to remember there was a third thing that always succeeded in distracting you …’ he added huskily. ‘Unless you think it would be inappropriate right now …?’
Was that uncertainty Mia heard in Ethan’s voice? Surely not. The Ethan she had known in the past had never seemed uncertain of anything—this more mature and forcefully arrogant Ethan even less so.
Mia moistened her lips before answering. ‘Why don’t we try it and see …?’
Ethan’s steely gaze remained fixed on her face, the tension leaving his body as he was reassured by whatever he saw there. ‘Sitting room or bedroom?’
Mia’s stomach did a somersault at the enormity of what she was doing. ‘The sitting room, please.’ Even to her own ears she sounded slightly breathless.
Ethan stepped back into the hallway. ‘Shall we …?’ he prompted gruffly.
Mia’s stomach gave another lurch. She really had no idea what she was doing. Only knew that right now she badly needed the feel of Ethan’s hands on her …
‘Ooh, that is sooo good …’
‘More?’
‘Yes …’
‘Harder?’
‘Yes, please. Oh, God … That is truly wonderful! I’d forgotten just how good you are at this,’ Mia added achingly.
Only a table lamp illuminated the room as Ethan stood behind the sofa, with Mia sitting in front of him, and continued to knead the knots of tension from her nape and between her shoulderblades, his fingers digging into the soft wool of her sweater as he massaged just firmly enough to ease that tension.
Of course he would have preferred it if Mia had been completely naked and lying on a bed while his hands massaged and soothed her bared and creamy flesh, but after the shock she had suffered when he had handed her those photographs he accepted that beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Just touching Mia at all was pleasurable. Ethan could feel the delicacy of her bones beneath the softness of flesh, and the heat she generated. The soft allure of her feminine perfume was permeating his senses. As for what her groans of pleasure were doing to his own body …
Ethan physically ached. That ache was becoming a pulsing need as Mia continued to give those little cries of pleasure as he massaged her back and shoulders. Cries of pleasure like those he could so easily remember her making during their lovemaking.
‘Don’t stop, Ethan.’ Mia’s voice was husky as she turned to look at him from beneath long silky lashes.
Ethan didn’t want to stop. What he wanted was to go so much further, deeper—hell, he was so aroused now he felt as if he was going to explode. An arousal that would no doubt result in Mia asking him to leave if she were to realize
.
‘Ethan …?’
‘Right.’ He gave a self-derisive shake of his head as he once again ran soothing—caressing—fingers over the softness of her shoulders and nape. The shortness of Mia’s hair shone golden in the glow of the table lamp, revealing a soft and vulnerable nape, and a tiny, kiss-able mole just beneath her right earlobe. The change in the way Mia responded to his caressing hands was so subtle Ethan almost missed it. Almost didn’t notice the way her neck now arched sinuously, the increased heat of her skin through the wool of her sweater …
Ethan’s own breathing became shallow and uneven as he changed the direction of his caresses, his fingers now moving slowly, lightly against the creaminess of Mia’s neck. Her head fell back against the sofa, her eyes closing as Ethan touched the delicate arch of her throat, seeking out those sensitive hollows before moving lower. His hands stilled, and he was waiting for Mia to protest as he gently cupped the firm thrust of her breasts.
Breasts that a single touch revealed were completely naked beneath the wool of Mia’s sweater, their softness tipped with nipples that Ethan knew from experience were the colour of raspberries—and just as succulent to the taste …
‘Mia—’
‘Don’t talk, Ethan, please,’ she groaned, eyes still closed as Ethan leant over the back of the sofa to look down into her face.
There was no missing the flush of arousal to Mia’s cheeks, the soft rose of her lips. And those lips were moist and slightly parted, as if in invitation.
Ethan knew he should resist that invitation. Mia had been deeply disturbed by those photographs—and still was? There were still so many misunderstandings between the two of them—so many things that hadn’t yet been said.
And Ethan didn’t give a damn about a single one of those things as his head lowered to claim Mia’s lips with his own!
Mia didn’t move, eyes remaining firmly closed as her lips parted in acceptance of Ethan’s kiss.
A wonderful expectant warmth had surged through Mia’s body minutes ago at the first touch of Ethan’s fingers. That warmth had quickly spread, causing her breasts to become hot and aching even as that heat simmered and settled achingly between her thighs. That heat expanded now as Ethan kissed her, his deft and knowledgeable fingers caressing her nipples, lightly squeezing the aching tips at the same time as his tongue moved between her parted lips.
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