He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into the sweet recesses of her mouth while her searching hand found and caressed him. His body was pulsing with need now, demanding a release, but he was determined to hold back until he was sure she was ready.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she was suddenly lying on top of him, her weight pressing down on him, her body in the most intimate contact with his own. It took just a moment to free her breasts from the lacy cups of the bra, another moment before she gasped as he suckled her nipples, a few seconds more before he felt her moving against him, but even then he held back. He wanted this night to be the most wonderful experience of her life and he would wait until the time was right even if it killed him!
‘Dylan!’
She moaned his name out loud as passion built inside her and reached unbearable levels. Dylan quickly rolled over again then stood up and removed the rest of his clothes. Her skin was burning hot when he went back to her, lightly filmed with perspiration so that he could taste the moisture on his lips as he skimmed kisses from her throat to her thighs before he finally settled over her. Their joining was so swift and easy that he laughed in delight, loving the way they fitted together so perfectly that they might have been made for each other. It made their love-making seem even more special, even more right.
‘Love me, Dylan,’ she whispered, her arms clinging to him, her legs wrapping around him.
‘I shall,’ he whispered back in the instant before passion claimed him and speech became impossible. But even though he could no longer say the words out loud he could hear them in his head and in his heart.
He loved her and he would always love her—from now until eternity.
CHAPTER NINE
PALE fingers of light filtered into the room and Joanna stirred. She felt so warm and comfortable that she really didn’t want to get up. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, only instead of cool, crisp cotton her cheek encountered the warmth and smoothness of bare skin.
Her eyes flew open and her heart missed a beat when she found herself staring at Dylan. His eyes were wide open and it looked as though he’d been awake for some time. Had he been lying there, watching her, while she’d been sleeping? The thought was so intimate that a shiver raced through her and she saw him frown.
‘You’re not cold, are you, darling?’ he asked, drawing her closer against him.
‘No,’ she murmured, wondering if anything had ever felt as marvellous as it did to be held like this. She felt so safe and secure, so wonderfully cherished, that tears of happiness prickled her eyes.
‘Hey, what’s the matter? You’re not sorry about what happened last night, are you?’
The concern in his voice would have been balm to her soul if it had needed any solace. However, her soul and the rest of her seemed to be in excellent shape that morning. She smiled as she blinked away the tears.
‘No, I’m not sorry. I’m just being a typical woman and coming over all emotional because I never thought I could feel like this.’
‘That’s a relief!’ He rewarded her with a kiss. ‘So it wasn’t too bad, then?’
‘Fishing for compliments, Dr Archer?’
‘Of course not,’ he denied, but she saw the rim of colour that ran along his cheekbones and her heart overflowed with tenderness and all sorts of other emotions she didn’t dare examine too closely whilst she was so vulnerable. It would be easy to let herself believe that she’d fallen in love with him, but it would create far too many problems to allow that to happen.
‘Good, because there’s no need to fish,’ she said, deliberately putting the thought out of her mind because she didn’t want anything to spoil their happiness. ‘It was the most wonderful night of my entire life, Dylan, and I shall never forget it.’
‘High praise indeed.’ Sadness flickered in his eyes despite the fact that he smiled at her. Joanna frowned when he tossed back the quilt and stood up.
‘What did I say?’ She reached over and caught his hand, gently tugging him back down onto the bed beside her. ‘Dylan, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and his eyes were very grave all of a sudden. ‘Last night was the most wonderful night of my life, too, Joanna.’
He drew her to him and kissed her with a passion that soon had her clinging to him, but even through the heat of their desire the nagging doubt that something was troubling him refused to budge. Was it the fact that she’d not tried to pretend their relationship would continue once the weekend was over, perhaps?
Her heart ached because she sensed it was so and she hated to think that she had hurt him. However, it would be wrong to lie and terribly wrong to make promises she couldn’t keep. All she could do was to show him how much she valued what they had at that moment, and she did. She did!
Their love-making seemed to reach new heights, as though both of them needed to prove to each other how special it was. Joanna lay back against the pillows afterwards while Dylan went to take a shower, wishing that she could feel this way for ever, but it just wasn’t possible. Making a commitment to Dylan was out of the question yet she knew in her heart that the alternative—suggesting they should have an affair—wouldn’t be enough for either of them. They would start to want more than that, to want things they could never have. It would be far, far better if they enjoyed this one weekend together and settled for that, but could they go back to being simply colleagues after it was over?
Dylan turned the thermostat on the shower to cold and made himself stand under the icy jets until his skin was puckered with goose-pimples. Turning off the water, he reached for a towel and dried himself off then unhooked the robe from the back of the door. He tightened the belt and took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door.
He refused to spoil the weekend by thinking about the future. It wouldn’t be easy because that remark Joanna had made about remembering last night for the rest of her life had struck home far harder than it should have done. He’d known from the outset that they would only have these few days together but somewhere along the way—probably in the aftermath of their love-making last night—he’d allowed himself to hope they could have more than that. Now he had to get his feet back onto the ground and not make the mistake of ruining what precious time they had left.
‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving. How about if I ring for room service and ask them to bring us some breakfast?’ he suggested, adopting a deliberately upbeat tone as he went back into the bedroom.
‘Sounds good to me…Wait a minute, though. Wasn’t there something on the conference agenda about a breakfast meeting this morning?’ She frowned as she looked around the room. ‘Where did I put my bag? I’m sure I’ve got all the details in it.’
‘Do you really want to start the day by discussing work when you could be enjoying this view?’ He pushed the heavy satin drapes aside so that the morning sunlight spilled into the room. ‘We’ve got the rest of the weekend to work so surely it won’t hurt if we play truant for a couple of hours?’
‘I don’t suppose it would matter that much,’ she conceded. ‘Anyway, from what I remember, it’s supposed to be more of a social event than a proper working breakfast.’
‘Well, I, for one, would far rather socialise with you than the rest of the crowd. Why don’t you have a shower while I rustle up some food?’ He briskly swept the voile curtains aside as well and grinned. ‘I can guarantee this view will blow you away!’
‘So long as it doesn’t blow me that far away that I’m unable to present my paper this morning,’ she retorted, tossing back the quilt. ‘I really don’t want to make a complete fool of myself.’
‘There’s very little danger of that happening. But if there is a problem I can always administer a bit of timely first aid.’
He went over to the bed and pulled her into his arms, feeling his body stir to life when his hands encountered bare skin. It was an effort to let her go after he’d kissed when what he real
ly wanted to do was to make love to her again. He could have happily spent the whole day in bed with her, in fact, but his conscience would give him hell if he didn’t do what he was being paid to do and attend the conference. Having a highly developed sense of duty could be a real handicap at times!
Joanna disappeared into the bathroom while he phoned room service and ordered breakfast for them. He could hear the shower running when he hung up so he quickly got dressed. If he hurried he should have time to visit the florist’s shop in the foyer before she finished in the bathroom.
By the time Joanna appeared ten minutes later Dylan had everything organised. He’d placed the table right in front of the window and stuck the rather wilting bunch of freesias he’d bought from the florist in a bottle of mineral water from the mini-bar and arranged it in the centre. He saw Joanna stop when she spotted them.
‘Flowers! But where did they come from?’
‘The shop in the foyer.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m afraid there wasn’t much of a selection because they were waiting for a fresh delivery. I hope they’re all right?’
‘They’re absolutely lovely! I adore freesias.’ She went over to the table and bent down to sniff them. ‘Thank you, Dylan. It was a really sweet thing to do. I can’t remember the last time anyone bought me flowers.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he said huskily, thinking that he would send her flowers every day of the week if it made her happy. He couldn’t believe that she didn’t get bombarded with them on a regular basis, in fact. She was so beautiful and talented that by rights she should have had men queuing up to lavish attention on her. It couldn’t be for lack of offers, he decided, so it must be because she didn’t encourage them, and that thought was both reassuring and at the same time worrying. Joanna was so determined to remain unattached that it just seemed to prove how foolish it would be to hope he could change her mind.
The waiter arrived with the breakfast trolley at that point, thankfully enough, so Dylan was able to put the thought to the back of his mind. He tipped the man then wheeled the trolley over to the table and pulled out a chair. ‘Breakfast is served, Madame!’
‘Thank you kindly.’ Joanna sat down, laughing when he took a linen napkin off the trolley and draped it over her lap with a flourish. ‘You seem to be rather good at this, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘I should be.’ He picked up the ornate silver coffeepot and filled their cups. ‘I worked as a waiter to help pay my way through med school. I’m a whiz at the napkin-draping lark, and as for silver service…Well, you should just see me handling a spoon and a fork while I dish up veggies. It’s sheer poetry in motion even though I say so myself.’
‘Sounds like a treat not to be missed.’ She chuckled as she took a warm croissant out of the basket. Breaking off an end, she popped it into her mouth.
‘Any time you want a demonstration just say the word.’ Dylan helped himself to a croissant and sat down. He broke off a chunk and spread it liberally with strawberry conserve before popping it into his mouth.
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She sipped some coffee then looked at him curiously. ‘So you had to work your way through university, did you? Your parents didn’t support you?’
‘Not financially. They didn’t have the money to spare, but they gave me all the support I needed in other areas,’ he explained. ‘They were one hundred per cent behind me from the moment I told them I wanted to be a doctor and I’ll always be grateful to them for that. I don’t know if I’d have made it if they hadn’t believed in me.’
‘It helps if people encourage you to pursue your dreams,’ she said rather wistfully.
‘It does.’ He put down his knife and looked at her. ‘Weren’t your parents keen on you going into medicine?’
‘They didn’t have an opinion one way or the other.’ She shrugged when he frowned. ‘They neither encouraged nor discouraged me because they considered it to be my decision.’
‘That sounds very…well, distant, I suppose, is the word that springs to mind.’
‘Actually, it’s highly appropriate because they’re very distant people. They were both heavily involved with their own careers whilst I was growing up. My father was a high court judge before he retired and my mother was a concert pianist. The live in Bermuda now so I see them only occasionally.’
‘Do you miss them?’ he put in quietly, not wanting her to stop there.
‘Not really. I had a nanny until I was old enough to be sent away to boarding school. When I came home for the holidays, my parents were always working so I was looked after by our housekeeper. I expect that’s why we’ve never been very close.’
‘Just the opposite to me,’ he said cheerfully, because he hated to hear that note of reserve in her voice. He couldn’t imagine having parents like hers, ones who didn’t take any interest in what their child was doing. ‘We’re still very close now, too. I have four sisters and we all try to get home to see Mum and Dad as often as we can.’
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like, having sisters or brothers. I always had the impression that my parents hadn’t planned on having any children and that I was an accident. It must have been fun growing up as part of a big family.’
‘It was certainly hectic. I don’t know how Mum used to cope but she never seemed to turn a hair and just got on with it. She’s exactly the same now when we all go home for Christmas or family birthdays,’ he explained, thinking how awful it must have been for Joanna as a child to feel that she hadn’t been wanted. Maybe that explained why she tended to appear so aloof at times? It was an inbuilt defence mechanism to stop herself getting hurt.
The thought of her less than idyllic childhood touched him deeply but he knew better than to sympathise. He focused instead on recounting a very shortened version of his family history. ‘My sisters are all older than me and they’re all married with children. Would you believe that I’m an uncle nine times over? It’s absolute bedlam when we all get together!’
‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘All those nephews and nieces must really keep you on your toes, Uncle Dylan.’
‘They do, but I’ve always wanted a family of my own one day so it isn’t a problem.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t.’
Once again there was a certain flatness to her voice. Dylan was tempted to ask her what was wrong but he managed to resist it. He swallowed a sigh because even though he desperately wanted to know everything possible about Joanna, there were still boundaries which he sensed she was unwilling to cross even after what had happened between them. It was frustrating to have to hold back when his instincts were to be open about his feelings, but he didn’t want to make her feel guilty when this weekend ended. She had to want to take their relationship further and it wouldn’t work if he tried to persuade her.
It was a sobering thought and too much to deal with right then. Even though he knew he could be storing up problems, he made himself put it aside. They finished their breakfast while they watched Paris waking up below them. Cars were flying down the Champs Élysées by the time they finished the last dregs of coffee and the pavements were full of commuters on their way to the Métro.
Dylan sighed as he put down his cup. ‘Time we got ready and joined the fray, I suppose. What time is the first session scheduled?’
‘Nine o’clock, I think.’ Joanna got up and fetched her bag off the chest of drawers. She quickly consulted the programme and nodded. ‘Yes, nine o’clock. Jean-Pierre and one of his colleagues are presenting a paper on this new microsurgical technique I was telling you about.’
‘Should be exciting,’ he replied with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
Her brows arched. ‘Do you have something against Professor Duteil?’
‘Nothing, apart from the fact that he’s obviously smitten with you.’
She laughed throatily, a teasing sound that made his insides turn to jelly. ‘If I didn’t know better, Dylan Archer, I’d think you were jealous.’
He shrugged, not sure if
he wanted to admit to such feelings. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ She moved behind his chair and looped her arms around his neck. ‘I think it’s very sweet, Dylan. Really I do.’
Her tone mocked him but he probably deserved it for behaving like an idiot. She’d only been talking to the Frenchman, for pity’s sake! It wasn’t as though he’d caught them in flagrante delicto. Jealousy was for teenagers, not grown men who’d had enough experience of life—and women—to know better. But even after that little pep talk he couldn’t have put his hand on his heart and sworn that he’d vanquished the green-eyed monster for good.
‘There’s no need to be jealous, you know.’ She brushed his ear with her lips, her warm breath making him shiver when he felt it tickling his skin. Her mouth slid lower so she could deposit several more deliciously tempting kisses on his jaw. He’d not shaved yet that morning and he could feel the velvety softness of her lips snagging on the barbs of his beard and almost groaned out loud because of how it made him feel. It was just the thought of that teenager he seemed to be turning into—the one who was jealous and gauche and Lord knew what else—that helped him hang on.
‘Isn’t there?’ he gritted out from between tightly clenched teeth.
‘Of course not. Granted, Jean-Pierre is a very charming man and a talented surgeon, but my interest in him is purely professional, you understand.’
‘I see. So do I take it, then, that your interest in me isn’t just professional?’ he asked, because he couldn’t resist it.
‘Not at the moment it isn’t,’ she admitted huskily.
Her mouth travelled down his neck, scattering kisses at random, and his throat moved convulsively as he swallowed down his next words. There was no point telling her that he wanted her feelings to last for longer than just this moment. It would only spoil what they had, and he wouldn’t do that.
He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her with every scrap of pent-up emotion he possessed. They had barely three days to make a lifetime of memories and he wasn’t going to waste a second. Maybe they would go back to normal after that, but maybe, just maybe, she would think about what had happened this weekend and wonder if she was right to be so against them having a real relationship.
The Pregnant Surgeon Page 11