‘Careful,’ Conan husked, folding her in his arms to steady her. ‘Should you be wearing high heels in your condition? ’ he asked.
‘Probably not,’ she admitted ruefully, slipping her feet out of the sandals, her small hands clasping his broad shoulders to steady herself. ‘But I’m vain.’ She lifted laughing eyes to his face, and that was her mistake.
Conan’s head bent, his lips brushing softly over her mouth in a gentle kiss, and the warmth of his mouth ignited an immediate response in her firm young body. The tension she’d felt when he’d held her before had mysteriously vanished. Instead she relaxed against him, her fingers sliding along his broad shoulders to lace through the thick black hair of his head, her lips parting invitingly under his. Then she was clinging to him, every part of her moulded against his large body. Her heart pounded in her breast as his tongue expertly searched the moist dark interior of her mouth, colliding and sliding with hers in wickedly seductive passion.
The blood roared in her head, blanking out all thought of resistance. The fierce pressure of his strong arms around her slender body was a delightful pain. Gradually he broke the kiss, his almost black eyes burning down into hers. Then, slowly, teasingly, he moved his hips against her, making her vitally aware of his own state of arousal in the process. But still he held her, which was just as well from Josie’s point of view; she doubted she could have stood by herself.
She should have been frightened, but for some reason she wasn’t. Her legs felt like rubber and she was incapable of speech. She stared mutely up at him, her violet eyes unknowingly inviting him to continue, and he did. His mouth once again found hers, and eagerly she gave in to the wonder of his kiss yet again.
‘Well, Josie, that was n
ice,’ he opined softly, lifting her hands from his shoulders and easing her away from him. ‘But I think you’d better run along and get changed or I might be tempted to forget all about dinner.’ He chuckled.
Conan’s soft laugh broke through her dazed senses. Dinner-Jeffrey-reality intruded like a douche of cold water. Picking up her sandals, she fled upstairs, as if all the hounds in hell were after her, and Conan’s mocking laughter ringing in her ears did not help.
‘That was nice,’ Conan had said. Nice? It was incredible. Josie had never thought a couple of kisses could arouse such a tumult of emotions. To her it had been earth-shattering, and she was mortified at her own reaction. But by the time she had changed her dress for a simple black sweater and plaid skirt she had almost convinced herself it had been an apparition on her part—maybe just her raging hormones caused by her pregnancy. Although her innate honesty forced her to admit she had been battling her attraction to Conan ever since the night of the party. As for her pregnancy, it had been remarkably trouble-free so far—no sickness, nothing except an expanding waistline.
Walking back downstairs, she headed for the kitchen. To her surprise Conan was setting the pine scrubbed table with dishes and cutlery. He looked up as she closed the door behind her.
‘Good; that was quick. I was thinking of starting without you—I’m starving.’ Turning to the cooker, he said over his shoulder, ‘Jeffrey has left my favourite—a steak and ale casserole with dumplings. Sit down and we’ll eat.’
Pulling up a chair, Josie did as she was told. If she had imagined the kiss would change anything between them, his prosaic statement had quickly disillusioned her. She watched him through her lowered lashes as he bent over the oven, his firmly moulded buttocks and long legs beautifully defined by the taut fabric of his trousers. She grew hot with embarrassment as she realised where her thoughts were leading, and hastily looked away.
She had not known it was possible to be so sexually aware of a man. Her palms were damp and she had to fight to control her erratic heartbeat. She grimaced; it was plain to see that Conan didn’t have the same problem as he turned around and placed a large casserole dish in the middle of the table.
‘You must be hungry after the busy day you’ve had. I know I am.’ Flashing her a quick grin, he served himself a huge helping of stew and started to eat.
Josie was surprised to discover that despite her turbulent emotions she was incredibly hungry. By the time she had devoured a healthy portion of dinner, and Conan asked her if she wanted more coffee, she had managed to suppress her wayward emotions altogether. ‘No, thanks, this is enough for me,’ she said, and she even managed a cool smile.
‘You’re getting over your grief, I think,’ Conan said softly into the silence.
‘Oh, yes.’ Fed and relaxed, she had never felt better. ‘Yes, indeed.’ She smiled at him, then immediately felt horribly guilty. She should not have agreed so readily; after all, it was Conan’s half-brother who had died. In an attempt to justify herself she continued, ‘I didn’t know...well, I mean...I didn’t go out with Charles for very long...’ She trailed off; she was only making it worse. She caught the glint of anger in his dark eyes, and wished she had never tried to explain. But surprisingly Conan smiled.
‘Don’t worry; there’s no need to feel guilty, Josie.’
She felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and could not meet his eyes. Dear heaven! How could he read her mind so easily? she wondered.
‘I knew Charles a lot better than you. And he wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve for ever.’ Levering himself out of the chair, he crossed to her side. ‘You’re tired,’ he said, and reaching for her hand, he pulled her to her feet.
Josie swayed slightly; it had been a long day. ‘Yes, I am.’ She yawned.
Conan steadied her with an arm around her shoulders and led her to the door. ‘It’s bedtime for you, my girl.’ He pressed a swift kiss on her softly parted lips, his dark eyes smiling down into hers.
With the taste of him on her lips, her bemused gaze clung to his and for the first time since their marriage she allowed herself to think that maybe it would not be such a bad idea if their convenient arrangement matured into a sexual relationship. Conan had kissed her and obviously cared about her; his reaction when she was late surely proved as much. Maybe she was not as frigid as she thought—around Conan she was anything but cold. Involuntarily she raised her fingers to her lips, as though to capture his last kiss.
‘Bed, Josie,’ he reminded her, chuckling at her reaction.
She dashed upstairs and her last thought before sleep claimed her was, If only she was his girl...
The following morning, there was a spring in her step and a sparkle in her eyes that she was totally unaware of. When Conan walked into the kitchen she had already made the coffee and was about to start cooking ham and eggs. She flashed him a brilliant smile. ‘Good morning.’
‘Is it?’ he demanded and, crossing over to the stove, he took the pan she was holding out of her hand, put it down on the bench, slipped his arms around her waist and turned her into the circle of his arms.
His dark eyes glinted golden in the early morning light as he searched her upturned face with slow deliberation, his gaze lingering on the lush bow of her mouth. She breathed the clean male scent of him, felt the enveloping warmth of his large body. Then his head descended very slowly, giving her all the time in the world to stop him if she wanted to. Instead she shivered as his lips sought hers, the pulse beating rapidly in the side of her neck. A low moan escaped her and he raised his head, his mouth swallowing her groan.
Her heart leapt in her breast as his teeth gently nipped her bottom lip, his tongue erotically stroking hers. Her body softened and arched slightly in his embrace and her breasts felt swollen and aching in contact with his broad chest. When he gently released her she was sure he must be aware of the startling effect he had on her. But he did not show it.
‘You’re right. It is a good morning, Josie—the best ever.’ His eyes, glinting with masculine satisfaction, held her own. ‘But don’t bother cooking for me; I’ll just have coffee. I want to save myself for tonight.’