Second Chance At Sea - Jessica Gilmore Mills & Boon M&B

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expecting. Jonas looked down at her for one moment—at the face at once so familiar and yet so strange to him, at the dark eyelashes, impossibly long, improbably thick, the creamy skin, the lush, full mouth waiting for him.

      And a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.

      Another fleeting kiss, and another, and another. Until, impatient, she moaned and pressed closer in, her mouth opening under his, seeking, wanting. She tasted of cider, of sunshine. She tasted like summer, like coming home, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer until they were pressed together, her arms wound around his neck. His own arms were holding her tightly to him, one bunching the silky strands of her hair, the other caressing the planes of her back through the lightness of her top.

      It was like being a teenager again, entwined on the floor of the camper van, mouths fused, hands roaming, pulling each other closer and closer until it seemed impossible that they were two separate bodies. There was no urgency to move, no need to start removing clothes, for hands to move lower. Not yet.

      Seconds, minutes, hours, infinities passed by. All Jonas knew was the drumming of his blood in his ears, the fierce heat engulfing him. All he knew was her. Her touch, her taste, her mouth, the feel of her under his hands. When she pulled back it was as if she had been physically torn away from him, a painful wrench that left him cold. Empty.

      She looked at him, eyes wide, dark with passion, her pupils dilated, mouth swollen. ‘I think...’ she began, her voice husky, barely audible.

      Jonas readied himself. If she wanted to be the voice of common sense, so be it. He looked back at her silently. He might not argue, but he wasn’t going to help her either.

      ‘I think we should close the doors.’

      Her words were so unexpected all he could do for a moment was gape. The van doors were still open to the night sky. The sea breeze floated in, bringing the taste of salt and the faint coconut-tinged smell of gorse.

      Then the meaning of her words hit home. Anticipation filled the air, hot and heavy, making it hard to breathe as excitement coiled inside him.

      ‘There’s no one out there.’

      They were in a secluded spot, parked at the very edge of the field. As private as you could be in a campsite full of tents and caravans. Not as private as they could have been if he’d planned for this.

      ‘Even so...’

      She smiled at him, slow and full of promise, and slowly, as if he were wading through treacle, he got to his feet and swung the sliding door firmly closed. The outside world was shut out. It was just the two of them in this small enclosed space. The air was heavy with expectation, with heat, with longing.

      ‘Satisfied?’ He raised an eyebrow and watched her flush.

      ‘Not yet.’ She was turning the tables on him. ‘But I’m hoping to be.’

      Passion jolted through him, intense and all-encompassing. In swift, sure steps he closed the space between them, pulling her in tight. ‘Oh, you will be,’ he promised as he lowered his mouth to hers once again. ‘I can guarantee it.’

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘OOOF!’ WHEN HAD breathing got so hard? Bending over to catch her breath, the tightness of a stitch pulling painfully at her side, Lawrie conceded that a ten-mile run might have been a mite ambitious.

      Of course, she reassured herself, running outside was harder, what with all those hills and the wind against her, to say nothing of no nice speedometer to regulate her stride. Straightening up, one hand at her waist, Lawrie squinted out at the late-afternoon sun. On the other hand, she conceded, although her late, lamented treadmill came with TV screens and MP3 plug-ins it was missing the spectacular views of deep blue sea and rolling green and yellow gorse of her current circuit. It was definitely an improvement on the view of sweaty, Lycra-clad gym-goers that her old location had provided her with.

      Taking a much needed long, cool gulp of water, Lawrie continued at a trot, looping off the road and onto the clifftop path that led towards the village. If she continued along to the harbour she could reward herself with a refuelling stop at the Boat House before walking back up the hill home. No way was she going to try and run up that hill—not unless her fitness levels dramatically improved in the next half an hour.

      Just keep going, she thought fiercely. Concentrate on that latte...visualise it. It was certainly one incentive.

      And if Jonas just happened to be working at the Boat House today then that, just possibly, could be another incentive. The pain in her side was forgotten as the night before flashed through her mind, her lips curving in a smile as she remembered. Another night of heat, of long, slow caresses, hot, hard kisses, hands, tongues, lips. Bodies entwining.

      Lawrie’s pulse started to speed up as her heartbeat began racing in a way that had nothing to do with the exercise.

      She upped the trot to a run, her legs pumping, her arms moving as she increased her pace. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t going to dwell on the delicious moment when day turned into evening. She wasn’t going to remember the tingle of anticipation that ran through her as she sat on the terrace in the evening sun, an untouched book and an iced drink before her, pretending not to listen for the purr of his car. Pretending not to hope.

      She was most certainly not going to recall the thrill that filled her entire body, the sweet jolt that shot through her from head to toe, when he finally appeared.

      Time was moving so fast. She had less than a month left in Trengarth. So she wasn’t going to question what was going on here. She was going to enjoy the moment. And what moments they were. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Hugo had made love twice in a week, let alone in a night, whereas she and Jonas... Well...

      Sure, she hadn’t planned for this, and for once she was being the exact opposite of measured and sensible. But wasn’t that the point? She had to make the most of this enforced time out. It would all get back to normal soon enough.

      Starting with today. Her first interview.

      It was all happening so fast. Just a few days since the initial approach, the phone call, and now a face to face interview. In New York.

      It was perfect. This would show Hugo and the partners. She could just imagine the gossip. Lawrie Bennett? Out in New York, I believe. A most prestigious firm. Anticipation shot through her. It was as if a load had been lifted. To be approached for such a role meant that her reputation was intact. It should be, but sudden departures were responsible for more scurrilous gossip in the legal world than any tabloid could imagine.

      Lawrie slowed her pace as the cliff path began to wind down towards the harbour and the pretty stone cottages clustered beneath her. Which was Jonas’s? He hadn’t asked her over and she was certainly not going to invite herself, to admit she was curious.

      Even if she was.

      Was it the one overlooking the harbour, with the pretty roof garden situated in exactly the right place for the afternoon sun? The three-storeyed captain’s house, imposing its grandeur on the smaller houses around? The long, low whitewashed cottage, its yard covered in tumbling roses?

      What did it matter anyway?

      Despite herself she slowed as she jogged along the harbour-front, looking into the windows, hoping for some clue. She didn’t care, she told herself, but she still found herself craning her neck, peeking in, searching for a sign of him.

      Beep!

      A car horn made her jump. The follow-up wolf whistle which pierced the air brought her to a skidding halt.

      Lawrie turned around, hands on hips, ready for battle, only to find her mouth drying out at the sight of Jonas Jones in that ridiculous low-slung sports car, top down. She coloured, looking around to make sure nobody had heard, before crossing the narrow road and leaning over the car. ‘Shush. People will hear you,’

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