Guilty Secret

by Josie Metcalfe

  Her dressing-gown was easily disposed of. She’d been in too much of a hurry to come down the stairs to him to manage to tie the sash properly, and a single tug left her completely exposed to his ravening hands.

  She tried to fathom the intricacies of shirt buttons but when that was too slow she just grabbed two handfuls of fabric and dragged it up out of his waistband to reveal the taut muscles of his chest to her hands and eyes.

  Soon, her desperation to touch, to stroke, to explore couldn’t be satisfied with limited access to his chest alone but her hands were trembling too much to allow more than fumbling attempts to unfasten his belt.

  ‘Here,’ he growled as his hand replaced hers, the sound of his zip the most welcome punctuation to their hurried breathing and impatient moans.

  Frankie was desperate to feel his body against hers, his raw masculine warmth pressed tightly against the perfumed softness of hers. Then he bent to lift her and she eagerly wrapped her arms tightly around him again as he turned so that her back was braced against the wall.

  ‘Hold tight,’ he instructed, his edgy tone telling her more than words how tightly his nerves were strung as he guided her legs around his hips.

  For just a fraction of a second she marvelled at what they were doing, unable to believe that they were about to make love just inches from her back door. Then he was joining their bodies together and all she could think about was how utterly right it felt to have him inside her again, as though she had been made for just this man and had been waiting all these years to find him.

  The pace was far too frantic to last and all too soon she was hearing the echoes of her own cry of satisfaction blending with his.

  ‘Damn,’ he muttered into the side of her neck, his chest rising and falling against hers as he fought for breath. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’

  At the sound of his regret, Frankie went rigid in his grasp and turned her head away as she felt the searing heat of embarrassment sweep over her.

  That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Surely she hadn’t been the only one to experience that cataclysmic explosion.

  ‘Frankie?’

  She couldn’t answer. There weren’t any words, but with their bodies still intimately joined there was no way she could avoid the hand that insisted she turn her head to face him.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ he demanded fiercely, his eyes burning into her like blue flames. ‘Damn, Frankie, I’m sorry. I know it shouldn’t have happened and I’m going to feel as guilty as hell later, but I just couldn’t stop.’

  He shook his head and would have stepped back to release her but something in his face made her tighten her grip with the last of her strength.

  ‘You couldn’t stop?’ she said weakly. Sudden warmth began to spread through her but she needed to be sure.

  ‘What do you think, woman?’ he demanded roughly, casting a telling glance down at the way their bodies were plastered so tightly together. ‘You can’t come to the door wearing nothing more than black silk and expect me to keep my hands to myself.’

  ‘So you’re not sorry that it happened?’ she asked, cringing at the uncertainty she could still hear in her own voice. Wasn’t it bad enough that Martin had left her in no doubt about her lack of attractiveness to the opposite sex, without letting Nick know that she realised her shortcomings?

  ‘God, no!’ he exclaimed with ego-stroking promptness. ‘I don’t regret that… Just that it happened like that…’

  When she realised that he was genuinely upset, Frankie couldn’t stop the smile that crept over her face.

  ‘Did it never enter your head that I might have liked it happening like that?’ she asked softly, some imp prompting her to tighten herself around him as she spoke. Her smile widened when she felt his response deep inside her. ‘Anyway, who says it’s all over?’ she teased as she flexed her muscles again.

  ‘Witch!’ he accused on a surprised chuckle, and Frankie was delighted to feel that he wasn’t able to stop his response the second time either. ‘Can’t you at least let us get somewhere more comfortable before we start again?’

  He tightened his arms around her, pulling her even more securely against him before he turned, his eyes scanning the kitchen. He’d only taken a couple of steps in the direction of the sturdy kitchen table where she shared so many meals with Laura and Katie when Frankie realised where he was taking her.

  ‘No, Nick. Not there,’ she said hastily. ‘I’d never be able to look my daughters in the face again.’

  He closed his eyes and groaned, pressing his forehead against hers as though he was reaching the end of his tether.

  She knew how he felt. They should both have found satisfaction with that explosive mating but all it seemed to have done was whetted their appetite to an even keener edge.

  ‘Nick?’ She was overwhelmingly aware of the intimacy of their position and so desperate to do something about it that she was even starting to weaken in her resolve when he opened his eyes.

  For just a moment he looked down at her with a wicked glint in his eyes. It was all too obvious that he knew that he could persuade her if he tried, and she knew that he wouldn’t have to try very hard.

  At the last moment, when the tension between them was growing close to flash point, he relented, whirling to leave the kitchen before they gave in to their common urge to begin the mating dance all over again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE light shining through from the bathroom wasn’t very strong in Frankie’s bedroom but it was enough for Nick to be able to watch her as she slept.

  What was it about this woman that affected him so strongly?

  She was only five feet two inches to his nearly six feet but she packed a punch like TNT that detonated all his hard-fought resolution into oblivion.

  He’d come here today knowing that Laura and Katie were due to spend the weekend with their father. What he had to say to Frankie was best discussed without the possibility that they might be interrupted or, even worse, overheard.

  So, what had happened to his determination that they’d sit down to talk like sane rational adults?

  Frankie had happened, that’s what. All he’d needed had been one glimpse of her curvy little body wrapped in gold-embroidered black silk and he hadn’t been able to resist, especially when he’d seen in her whisky-coloured eyes that she’d wanted the same thing.

  He sent a leisurely glance over the body snuggled so sweetly next to his, knowing that if she were awake she would be reaching for something to cover herself.

  He smiled, wondering how long it would take him to convince her that she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. She was everything lush and womanly and sexy that any man could desire. His own body’s reaction to her proximity was testament to that, in spite of the fact that it should by rights be totally exhausted by now.

  The strange thing was, it was the first time that he’d ever been attracted to a woman who wasn’t tall, slim, blonde and blue-eyed. Both Vicky and Elinore could have come out of the same mould, as pretty and apparently delicate as Dresden figurines.

  It was amazing how deceptive looks could be, he mused with a flash of the sort of wisdom that sometimes arrived in the small hours of the night. Elinore had hidden a core of lies and deception underneath her sweet fragility while Vicky hid a core of pure steely determination.

  Frankie was a different kettle of fish altogether with her dark hair cut into short feathery layers and eyes that could flash from the soothing sweetness of honey to the burning bite of whisky in a flash.

  Sometimes it was difficult to reconcile the woman uncertain of her own sexual powers with the experienced mother of two soon-to-be teenagers.

  Just the thought of Laura and Katie was enough to put a smile on his face. They were great kids and the more he saw of them, the better they seemed to get. Laura had been the more wary at first and he hadn’t been sure whether it was because she was the elder or because she was naturally the more cautious of the two.


  Perhaps it had something to do with the family history. Maybe she’d been old enough to remember her father’s defection and was less trusting as a result.

  There was no such problem with Katie. She had taken to him with all the exuberance of a lively puppy right from the first time he’d collected them from school.

  Over the last couple of weeks he’d even begun to volunteer to fetch them when he was free, enjoying their conversations and fascinated by their innocent points of view.

  When Laura had opened up enough to ask for his opinion he’d been struck by totally unexpected feelings of nervousness and pride—fear that he didn’t know enough about children to be able to give advice and pride that she felt that she could ask.

  ‘If I can help, I will,’ he’d temporised hastily. ‘But wouldn’t your mother be able to help?’

  ‘Not really.’ She’d grimaced, the expression so like one he’d seen on her mother’s face that he’d found it hard not to smile. ‘You see, I’m trying to decide what to do when I’m old enough to go to university.’

  She’d looked so earnest that he’d known he mustn’t laugh, but what on earth was she doing, worrying about this now?

  ‘Laura, you’re still at junior school. There’ll be plenty of time to make those sorts of decisions when you’ve taken a few exams.’

  ‘I’ll be going to senior school later this year,’ she pointed out seriously. ‘And Dad said I would have to choose my subject options according to what career I wanted to follow.’

  Nick was seized with a sudden desire to box the wretched man’s ears. He might be the child’s father, but he didn’t seem to know her well enough to see that she was already such a solemn little thing. She should be enjoying her childhood, not worrying about career choices that were still several years away.

  ‘So, have you had any ideas of what you’d like to do, or is it just a matter of knowing what subjects you enjoy most?’ He had a feeling that he knew what it must be like to pick a path across quicksand. Each step or, in his case, each word could lead to disaster.

  ‘I think I’d be good as a lawyer or as a doctor,’ she announced earnestly. ‘But that’s the problem.’

  ‘Why is it a problem? You already know from your parents that they’re both excellent careers.’

  ‘That’s why,’ she said with another grimace. ‘If I choose doctor, my dad will be disappointed, and if I choose lawyer, then Mum will. I can’t please both of them but I don’t want to upset either of them.’

  ‘Then you haven’t got a problem at all,’ he said firmly. ‘When you’re choosing your career, there’s only one person whose opinion you need to think about, and that’s you.’

  ‘Me?’ She blinked, clearly startled with the idea.

  ‘Yes, Laura. You,’ he repeated with a reassuring smile. ‘It’s going to be your life, not theirs. So, any decision about what you want to do with it must be one that makes you happy. Then you have to make up your mind that, whatever you do, you’re going to be the best you can be. If you’re a lawyer, be a good lawyer; if you’re a doctor, be a good doctor. Whatever you decide, go into it with your heart and soul. That’s why it’s so important that it’s something you want to do.’

  Seeing the smile creep over her face was like watching the sun come through after a storm.

  ‘So, that’s my opinion. Did it help?’ he asked, hoping he hadn’t come on too strong and hoping, too, that Frankie wouldn’t think he’d been interfering where he wasn’t welcome.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said fervently. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that before, but it all makes sense now. It’s my life, so it’s my choice.’

  Nick wondered if he ought to have added a rider that sometimes expert advice could help make decisions easier but Katie had run out of patience with her big sister monopolising his attention and the moment was lost.

  She wasn’t one to worry about eventual career choices when there was the prospect of a willing pair of ears to hear her read or listen to the latest episode in the saga of her constantly shifting friendships.

  She’d even started a pointed campaign to get him invited home for a meal each time he played chauffeur, and sometimes he wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that he was rarely free to take her up on it.

  After last night perhaps he ought to reorganise his timetable a little to make sure he was available when the invitations came. He was almost certain that Frankie would probably confirm an invitation made by her daughter and he would enjoy the chance to spend more time with all three of them.

  He closed his eyes a moment but Frankie’s welcome the night before was still there in his mind’s eye, all warm silky skin and so heart-stoppingly eager for his kisses and his touch.

  What on earth had made him try to persuade himself that one night would be enough? Last night, their second spent together, had only nurtured the suspicion that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

  He sighed, weary more from his weighty thoughts than from the mind-blowing activities of the night.

  Was he really such a fickle man?

  One moment he was proposing to Vicky, the young woman who had patiently loved him for more years than he liked to think about. They were in the middle of planning their wedding, for heaven’s sake…or at least Vicky’s mother was, if she could ever get him and the strangely elusive Vicky together long enough to make a few decisions.

  Yet here he was, in bed with another woman and admitting that his fascination with her would probably take a lifetime to run its course.

  The thought was enough to stop him in his tracks. If he loved Vicky enough to marry her, what was he doing here with Frankie? If he was admitting that his attraction was far more than a mindless one-night stand…and he was proud to be able to say that he’d never indulged in one of those…then what was he doing engaged to Vicky?

  He was ashamed to admit that what he was doing wasn’t fair to either of them, but honest enough to realise that the situation had been prompted by something far more potent than mere lust.

  Not that there was anything wrong with the lusty feelings that swept over him each time he looked at Frankie. They were a normal male reaction to a woman who attracted him, and she certainly attracted him—had done from the first glimpse he’d had of her when she’d been soaking wet, washing the car.

  Prompted by the memory, his eyes skimmed over her sleeping form, tracing her slender shoulders and the curve into her waist, the lush fullness of her breasts and the womanly flare of her hips.

  He stifled a groan as his body started to react in an all too predictable way but he needn’t have bothered. As if she was tuned to his thoughts Frankie started to wake, brushing against him as she stretched her arms unselfconsciously over her head.

  He couldn’t resist her.

  His hand was already cupping her as he leant forward to murmur a greeting against her lips. Without hesitation she opened to him, mouth and body, and he was instantly consumed by the need for more.

  She was draped bonelessly over his panting body when he finally remembered the primary reason why he’d turned up on her doorstep in the first place and he groaned aloud.

  How could he have forgotten? And not only that, but he’d spent the night compounding the potential problem.

  ‘Exhausted?’ she purred in his ear then nibbled the lobe, sending an impossible surge of renewed arousal through him.

  ‘Have mercy, woman,’ he pleaded even as he cupped her hips and pressed her closer.

  ‘I thought younger men were supposed to have more stamina?’ she teased, squirming provocatively.

  ‘Depends whether you’re looking for quality or quantity,’ he fired back on a growl, already mentally calculating whether they had enough time to complete what his body would like to start. Heaven only knew how many times they’d made love since that first explosive episode just inside her kitchen door.

  With that thought, sanity returned with all the effect of a bucket of icy water, stopping him in his tracks.


  ‘Urn, Frankie,’ he began, suddenly finding it hard to put words together. It was difficult to admit just how thoughtless he’d been, not once but over and over again. ‘You are taking something, aren’t you?’

  ‘Taking something?’ she repeated idly, her concentration evidently more on the finger that was tracing the whorls of dark hair around one of his nipples.

  ‘The Pill?’ he prompted. ‘Or did you have a coil fitted?’ They’d been far too intimate for him to have missed the existence of any of the more obvious barrier methods of contraception.

  He felt her whole body grow tense and had a sudden sinking feeling deep in his gut.

  She lifted her head from the comfortable niche in the angle of his neck and he saw the echoes of pain darkening her eyes.

  ‘I’ve never needed to take anything,’ she said softly, obviously finding it hard to hold his gaze.

  ‘What? Never?’ In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he was intrigued.

  ‘Martin was going to take care of things until we were ready to start a family, but I became pregnant on our honeymoon.’ An endearing blush spread up over her face at the admission, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. This was too important.

  ‘Then, after Katie was born, I didn’t get pregnant again even though we didn’t take any precautions. I would have liked another baby but…’

  Her words died away on a sad little shrug, and he was struck by the unexpected wish that he could have been the one to give her the child she’d wanted.

  He had a sudden image of her body swollen and lush with the evidence of the infant growing inside her—a child that he’d fathered—and his heart seemed to leap right up into his throat.

  That impossible idea was swiftly submerged under the relief that he hadn’t jeopardised her through his thoughtlessness. Neither of them could afford the complications that an accidental pregnancy would entail—not Frankie, with her husband about to fight for a change in their children’s custody, nor himself, with his wedding to Vicky in the throes of organisation.