by Amy Andrews
He grinned. ‘I noticed.’ She put her hands on her hips and he sobered. ‘I’m not feeding you a line.’ He sat forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them. ‘I love you, Miranda. I think you love me too. Let’s tell the world.’
Miranda wished now she wasn’t standing as her knees started to wobble. Who’d have thought those three little words could mean so much to someone who was already more than a little jaded by love? She injected some iron into her stance.
Words were one thing, actions were another.
She needed all her i’s dotted and t’s crossed and the truth was, he wasn’t free to make such a statement.
Miranda dropped her arms by her side. ‘I’m not going to love a man who’s married to someone else.’
‘So...you do love me, you just...refuse to let yourself?’
Miranda knew it sounded crazy. ‘I can’t go there, Patrick.’ She refused to think about the feelings that swirled and grew every time she saw him. ‘I’m not going to be my mother. I’m not going to subject Lols to the ups and downs of that.’
Patrick reached for her unresisting hand. ‘I wouldn’t ever ask you to, Miranda. I hope you know that.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘The divorce should go through any day now.’
‘I know. But...I can’t...’
She couldn’t allow herself to admit anything till then. She knew the divorce was a mere formality now but it was a mental hurdle for her, an important one. And just the touch of his hand was throwing everything into chaos, tempting her to walk around it instead of jumping over it clear and true with a free conscience.
‘Not until after...’
Patrick tugged on her hand gently and pulled her into his lap, holding her close, her head tucked into his shoulder. ‘It’s fine,’ he murmured.
Patrick understood how much it meant to her. How hard it was for her to be involved with a man who was still officially married. That she’d broken her cardinal rule to be with him.
The divorce had taken much longer to execute because of the peculiarities of his situation. Not being able to serve Katie with the papers due to her unknown whereabouts had muddied the waters but eventually, after jumping through all the legal hoops, including a court appearance, it was now just a matter of time.
‘I’m sorry. I know you’ve done everything you could to get it through. And that it’s been especially difficult given how hard it’s been on Helen.’
Patrick stroked her arm absently. Helen had struggled with it. He knew it wasn’t out of meanness or loss of control. It was just another link to her daughter being severed, the door finally closing.
‘She’ll get over it. Don’t worry.’
Miranda hoped so. She’d only had three encounters with Patrick’s mother-in-law since he’d started the divorce proceedings but they’d all been stilted and awkward.
They sat for a few minutes in the quiet darkness, Patrick’s hand stroking up and down Miranda’s bare arm. He’d never sat like this with Katie, and everything felt so right. Goose-bumps pebbled beneath the pads of his fingers and he inhaled the scent of her deep into his lungs with each stroke. She shifted against him and he shut his eyes as his body, already aroused from earlier, enjoyed the sensation.
Miranda, drifting in a heady splendour from his lazy touch, slowly became aware of his erection beneath her. She shifted against him as a pulse in her belly fluttered madly. ‘Pervert,’ she muttered.
He smiled to himself, enjoying the feel of her against him. ‘Well, stop moving, then.’
Miranda smiled. ‘It tickles.’
‘What? This?’ He thrust against her a little as his lips caressed her forehead.
Her smile broadened. That did, most definitely, not tickle. ‘Your fingers,’ she said, her voice thick in her throat.
He nuzzled her neck. ‘I think the girls really are asleep now, you know.’ He traced his tongue up her neck. ‘God, you smell incredible,’ he said, breathing her in until his head spun and his erection surged harder.
Miranda turned her head slightly to give him a little more of her neck for just a moment but suddenly his mouth was there and hers was on it and his tongue was invading and she was giving him access to all areas as she slipped her leg over his thigh to straddle him, and his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt.
She was practically putting up a red light and jiggling her butt right in front of him.
He loved her. He loved her.
‘God, I want you,’ he muttered against her mouth.
And it was like music to her ears. But...her conscience nagged her more.
It took Miranda a supreme effort to pull herself back from that. Supreme. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing, her breasts were aching to be touched, her belly was melting into a puddle of lust.
He loved her.
But they couldn’t. Their daughters were a room away. They had to be responsible.
Patrick looked at her, dazed, as his whole body screamed its displeasure. ‘What?’ he asked, breathing hard.
‘Go!’ She hauled herself off him, standing, stepping away, straightening her clothes. She pointed at the door. ‘Go.’
Patrick could see by the ragged rise and fall of her chest how turned on she was despite the darkened room. Hell, he’d have been able to sense it had they been in the pitch blackness ten kilometres underground. ‘Spoilsport.’
She gave him a grudging smile. ‘Go.’
He rose from the lounge reluctantly and grinned when she moved even further away. ‘So...getting back to my original proposal...once the divorce is through, I think we should tell the girls. I don’t want to wait another six months. I don’t want to wait any longer. I know what I want. And it’s you.’
His hot autumn gaze blistered her with possession while his utter self-assurance oozed all over her like warmed maple syrup and whipped cream. ‘Let’s talk about it then,’ she hedged.
She would not think about loving him, about altering their agreed-upon path, until after the D word.
He grinned. ‘Spoken like a true mother.’
She smiled back and suddenly he was looking at her again not as a mother with responsibilities and sensibilities but as a woman whose clothes he could see right through! ‘Stop that,’ she chided as his gaze dropped to her nipples and they responded in kind.
He looked at her. ‘I could help you with that...’ his attention wandered to her nipples again before returning to her face ‘...situation.’
Miranda sucked in a breath. She was torn between laughing and ripping her shirt off and demanding he follow through with every wicked thought she could see in his golden-brown gaze.
‘Leave. Now.’
He shrugged, holding up his hands in a surrender pose as he walked slowly backwards. ‘Just sayin’.’
She grinned. ‘Noted.’
Patrick felt the door against his back and wanted to leave about as much as he wanted to drill a hole in his head. He was so turned on right now he doubted he’d even be able to see the road properly even though he could see her erect nipples in the dark and way across the room.
‘Call me during the night if they...become too much of a nuisance.’
She sent him a faux mortified look. ‘I will be sleeping soundly, you scoundrel.’
He grinned. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to sleep a wink.’
And then he turned and left because a man was only blessed with so much self-control and he’d reached his limit for the day.
* * *
Miranda smiled as he left, her heart filling up with giddiness again, which she determinedly ignored. For now she was happy and she wasn’t going to analyse that!
Which lasted all of about five minutes.
She checked on the girls and discovered that while they were,
indeed, finally asleep, Bud mark six was also doing a very good impression of sleep in his little bowl.
Too good.
Miranda looked down at the fish floating lifelessly on his side. The same fish that had, only an hour ago, been frolicking around like a spring lamb, causing the girls to giggle like loons.
Maybe he’d been having a seizure. And drowned.
‘Oh, Bud,’ she whispered, picking up the round bowl and staring at him through the thick glass. ‘Not again!’
Thank God Kevin from the pet shop played a Friday night poker game with his geek buddies in the back of the shop. She shook her head as she dialled his number—she shouldn’t know so much about the habits of a middle-aged pet-shop owner.
After assuring her he’d be there if she wanted to pop down for Bud mark seven, Miranda had no choice but to ring the one guy she needed to stay away from. Nan was out on a pensioner trip to the granite belt wine district and couldn’t be called on to come and sit with the girls.
That left her no choice unless she wanted to deal with two distraught five-year-olds in the morning.
* * *
Patrick smiled at the screen of his phone as he climbed out of his car, a tiny thrill of anticipation buzzing through his system. He leaned against the door as he answered it. ‘You want me to talk dirty to you?’
Miranda laughed, her toes curling at the deliciously sexy edge to his voice. And if she hadn’t been holding a bowl containing the body of the dearly departed Bud, she may well have gone with a little phone sex. ‘No. But I do need a favour.’
‘You want me to come around and deal with it in person?’
‘Behave,’ she warned, but her voice was a little too husky to be taken seriously. ‘Are you home yet?’
Patrick grinned. ‘Just pulled in.’
Miranda sighed. ‘Darn.’
‘What?’ Patrick straightened as he clued in to the note of strain in her voice. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Bud died.’
It took Patrick a moment to compute what she was saying and he relaxed back against the car. ‘Poor Bud. Although I’m not surprised. Bud needs a girl. Sexual frustration is a killer. I ought to know.’
Miranda smiled despite the situation. ‘Will you be serious?’
‘I am very serious about sexual frustration.’
Miranda decided it was best to ignore him. ‘I’m sorry, I know you’re home but can you go to the pet shop and pick up a new Bud and bring him back? Nan’s away so I can’t leave.’
Patrick checked his watch. ‘It’s ten-thirty at night. The pet shop is open?’
‘Kevin’s there, he knows what I need.’
‘What on earth is he doing at work at a pet shop at this hour of night? Does Kevin not have a life?’
‘Poker game.’ There was silence for a long moment. ‘I know, it’s sad that I know that. Will you please just do it?’
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Patrick said, ‘You owe me.’
The low, suggestive note slipped down her spine and Miranda gripped the phone. ‘I’ll text you the address.’
And she hung up before she offered to let him have a pound of flesh—gentleman’s choice—in exchange for door-to-door delivery.
* * *
An hour later he was back, toting a water-filled plastic bag with two fish and a grin the size of the Great Australian Bight.
‘Bud seems to have cloned,’ she said as he produced the bag.
‘At least someone’s going to get lucky tonight.’
She took it from him, careful to not touch his fingers. He was still in the same clothes as earlier and if anything his coming to her rescue had ramped up his sexiness to lethal proportions. If anyone had said before tonight that a man bearing two girly looking goldfish could look hot, she’d have laughed.
And yet here he was, standing in her home. Oozing hotness.
‘And how are we going to explain the second fish?’ she enquired as she tipped them into their new home.
‘We’ll tell them Bud had a baby.’
Miranda raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, you want to have the baby talk with them, do you?’
Patrick faltered as a bunch of potential complications arose. He rubbed his jaw. ‘Hmm. Good point. Tell them the mermaids decided Bud needed a girlfriend.’
Miranda’s arms broke out in goose-bumps at the delicious rasp of his whiskers. They were standing side by side at the kitchen bench, looking down into the bowl with two fish that certainly didn’t look like they were about to go steady any time soon. They were definitely keeping their distance.
His arm brushed against hers. The heat from his thighs radiated her way. She could see his pursed lips in her peripheral vision.
Miranda picked up the bowl, determined to be strong. To step away from temptation. Well away. ‘I think,’ she said, heading for Lola’s room, ‘just mentioning mermaids will be sufficient deflection. Good thinking.’
Patrick followed her and the enticing swing of her hips in her regulation jeans. They walked past her bedroom to Lola’s room and he hung back in the doorway as Miranda quietly placed the bowl back on the table that usually nestled between the two beds but which tonight was pushed to the side to make way for the princess cubby house he’d helped them construct for their sleeping pleasure.
She snapped off the lamp she’d thrown a pink silky scarf over, instantly dousing the low pink light. He watched Miranda as she carefully picked her way out of the room and joined him by the door. They both gazed down at the sleeping faces of their daughters. They lay beside each other, their hands intertwined, their little bow mouths slack, their breathing deep and even.
‘They’re so beautiful,’ Patrick whispered as his heart squeezed at their obvious affection for each other.
Miranda nodded on a rush of love for Ruby as well as Lola. ‘Yes.’
Patrick put his arm around her shoulder and almost sighed when she snuggled into his side.
‘Thank you,’ Miranda said after a while. ‘For coming to the rescue.’
He didn’t say anything for a moment as they gazed at the girls. ‘It’s my job,’ he murmured. ‘I’m the daddy.’
Miranda let it wash over her. It would be nice to have a man around. Someone to take out the rubbish, check cupboards for monsters, replace dead fish in the middle of the night.
To lie with. To hold. To cherish.
She shut her eyes against the seduction of it all then she pulled away. If she didn’t let go now, she might not let go at all.
Patrick followed her, the need to touch her, kiss her growing by the second, and as they drew level with her bedroom it took over. He captured her arm and she turned to face him, blinking up at him all wide-eyed and gorgeous in that infernal blouse, which was nothing but a barrier to the satin, lace and skin he knew lay beneath.
‘Patrick.’
If it had been stern or laden with reproach it would have stopped him in his tracks but it had a throaty kind of desperation to it that ramped up his desire. His hand slid to her cheek, cupping it. ‘Now...about that payment,’ he said, as he dropped his head to savour the taste of her mouth.
She shivered and moaned a little and moved closer, and it was all the encouragement he needed. He walked her backwards until they were in the privacy of her bedroom.
Miranda dragged her mouth away. ‘You should go, Patrick,’ she said, trying to convince herself as much as him as she stared at his mouth.
Patrick tried to drag his rampant body under control. To slow his heart rate, to even his breath. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know. I just...’ He brushed her fringe off her face. ‘I love you,’ he murmured.
Miranda shut her eyes as his words stroked every erogenous zone she had. ‘Don’t say that,’ she begged.
‘Why not?’ he asked as
she opened her eyes. ‘I love you, I love you. I love you, I love you.’
Miranda rocked her head from side to side as her belly tightened, her breasts burgeoned, her fingers itched. Those three little words were the ultimate in foreplay. ‘Stop,’ she said desperately as her body melted into a puddle.
Patrick smiled triumphantly as her pupils dilated. ‘Ah, I see,’ he murmured. Very slowly he dropped a kiss behind her ear. ‘I love you.’ And then another on the underside of her jaw. ‘I love you.’ And one further down where a pulse fluttered madly in her throat. ‘I love you.’
‘Okay,’ she breathed out in ragged surrender as he stroked his tongue along her collar bone.
He lifted his head and smiled, his mouth hovering a fraction from hers. ‘Okay, what?’
Miranda shivered as his lips whispered the words over hers. ‘You have to go home straight after.’
Patrick smiled.
Then he kissed her deep and hard and hungry and neither of them spoke for a very long time.
CHAPTER NINE
PATRICK HALF STIRRED as early light filtered through the lacy curtains and tried to remember the last time he’d woken up with such a feeling of contentment. Miranda was warm and relaxed all spooned up against him and he allowed himself the luxury of lazily nuzzling along her neck and shoulder.
The pleasant feeling unfortunately did not last for long as he came more awake and other things filtered in. Like loud whispering coming from the end of the bed. His heart started to beat a little harder as the implication of that sank in. He peeked up and found himself looking into two sets of curious eyes—one china blue, the other emerald green.
Holy crap! The bedside clock said almost six. He was supposed to have left hours ago!
He turned his face to Miranda and whispered in her ear, ‘Wake up, we’ve been sprung.’
Miranda came out of her sexually charged drowse into instant consciousness, her eyes flying open, the light filling her room slapping her in the face with a mega-dose of reality. She scrambled to a sitting position, taking the sheet with her. They both did, sitting back against the bedhead, facing their interested audience with the sheet pulled up to cover their state of undress.