LITMIR.BIZ

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she’d been the one to deny the possibility of a fling. She would have to be the one to suggest it. She took the few steps needed to close the distance between them. She wound her arms around his neck, drew his face close and kissed him, her lips parted in a sensual invitation he accepted with a hard, hungry possession.

      Pleasure and anticipation throbbed through her as she welcomed his mouth, his tongue, his passion. His hands slid around to her back, hard and exciting on her bare skin. She slid her hands from his neck so she could push off his jacket, tug his T-shirt from his belt with impatient fingers, splay her hands flat against the warm, solid muscle of his chest, feel the rapid thudding of his heart.

      Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps echoed by his. She wanted him so badly it was an ache. Every physical instinct she had screamed at her to proceed. To let Declan caress her—and her caress him back. To rid themselves of their clothes. To stagger into the bedroom locked in each other’s arms and fall together on the bed. To bring each other’s body to the peaks of ultimate pleasure.

      But her instincts for common sense, for self-preservation, overrode them and begged her to stop this before it went any further. It was too soon—not just for her but for him.

      She’d never been one for sex without emotion, without love. And she sensed that would never develop if the physical took over while the emotional lagged so far behind. Oh, but she wanted him so much she burned with it.

      But as his hand grazed the side of her breasts, as her nipples tightened to hard points and hunger for him throbbed through her body she knew she couldn’t go through with a fling of any kind. That way lay certain heartbreak and she should have realised it before it got this far.

       Meaningless would never be for her, no matter how you masked it.

      She broke away from the kiss, panting. It was an effort to speak. ‘Declan. No. I mean... I mean... I mean stop.’ That sounded like such a cliché. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m a...a tease but I can’t go further than this. I thought I could. I want you. Want you more than I could ever have imagined but—’

      He pulled away immediately, his breathing ragged and harsh. ‘But you’re not ready.’

      She struggled for the right words. ‘Are you? I would make love with you in a heartbeat but I don’t think either of us is ready for that...that complication. Not now. Not yet. Some time I hope if you...when we...’ She did not want him to think she was assuming they would work towards being a couple—though there was nothing she wanted more.

      He paced the width of the room and she could see it was an effort for him to restore his equilibrium. ‘You’re right. It’s too soon. I’m only just getting used to the thought of another woman—you—in my life. I don’t want to hurt you.’

      He took the few strides necessary to bring him back to her. Then groaned in a wrenching anguish of frustration that called to her too and planted a hard, hungry kiss on her mouth. ‘But be in no doubt how much I want you. How difficult it is for me to stop.’

      This was a man who knew how to love. She was prepared to wait until he felt able to love again. No matter how long that took.

      She stepped back before her resolve broke and she flung herself at him and begged him for anything he was prepared to give. Another deep breath restored the beating of her heart to something less erratic.

      ‘How...how about that muffin?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject.

      ‘Satisfy a different kind of hunger, you mean,’ he said with a wry twist of that mouth she wanted so much to kiss and kiss and kiss again.

      ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ she said.

      * * *

      Declan watched Shelley move around the small kitchen with the same efficiency of movement she gave to her work. A warrior who could cook—and cook well. She’d put the frozen muffin in the microwave and a delicious—and familiar—aroma was wafting its way to his nose. He was hungry. All his appetites had diminished in the intensity of his grief after Lisa died. But Shelley had awoken them and they came raging back. Especially his hunger for her.

      She’d kicked off her shoes before she went into the kitchen. But she still wore that tantalising blue dress. He had to stop fantasising about stripping it off her, of releasing those chains that were all that held it together. She was wearing panties under the dress, he’d ascertained that in his first explorations. But no bra. Unhook that chain and the dress would fall to the floor leaving her in just panties and her silver stilettos—and then not even them.

      He forced himself to think thoughts other than of undressing Shelley and carrying her into the bedroom. He leaned against the countertop.

      ‘Tell me about the party,’ he said, though he had no real interest in it. She’d come home to him and that was all that counted.

      ‘I met a television producer. A friend of a friend of Keith’s. He was really nice.’

      Jealousy speared him. ‘I’ll bet he was.’ What male wouldn’t be nice to Shelley in that dress?

      ‘Not in that way,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He was there with his wife, and she was really interesting too. He produces a lifestyle show for one of the cable channels. As soon as he heard what I did he asked me would I be interested in being their gardening presenter. They want gardening to be seen as younger and...and sexier.’

      Declan couldn’t help his growl of possessive jealousy. ‘What do you mean “sexier”?’

      ‘Not me. Well, yes, maybe me, in that I’m young and female compared to the older guy they already have who is retiring, but they want to appeal to younger viewers who might think of gardening as something for their grandparents. He said he was excited about me because I was...well...attractive but also authoritative and knew my stuff.’

      The growl subsided. ‘Fair enough.’

      ‘I was really flattered that he was interested in me.’

      ‘Of course he’d be interested in you. Why wouldn’t he? He must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. What did you say to him?’

      ‘I told him about my plans to go visit the gardens in Europe.’

      ‘So you’d put those plans on hold if you were to take him up on the offer?’ Which would give him more time with her.

      ‘I’d have to audition first before there would even be an offer,’ she said.

      ‘You’d be a natural for it,’ he said.

      ‘That’s what he said,’ she said with a delighted smile. ‘He also said they could work around my travel plans if need be, that I can pre-record a series of segments filmed at those famous gardens. It would be like bringing them into the viewers’ homes.’

      ‘You obviously like the idea,’ he said, knowing he sounded stilted but unable to do anything about it. She would leave here no matter what he did and he couldn’t stop her. Not until he had something to offer her.

      ‘I do,’ she said. ‘Gardening is really hard physical work. I don’t know that I could do it for ever. This could be a really wonderful opportunity to still do what I love but in a different way.’

      ‘It’s certainly worth considering,’ he said. Anything that might delay her departure would be worth considering.

      He helped her to carry the chamomile tea and plate of muffins to the coffee table. Then sat down beside her. She kept a polite distance away from him but he pulled her close and she snuggled in next to him with a contented little sigh that pleased him inordinately.

      ‘Aren’t you going to have a muffin?’ he asked as she sipped her tea. ‘Mine is absolutely delicious.’

      She shook her head. ‘Too tired to eat,’ she said. ‘The muffins are for you and I’m glad you like them. I thought you might.’

      The muffins were everything

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