by Heidi Rice
She smiled and slipped off the bed.
She had thirty minutes to get ready for the best party of her life and, what was more, she had every intention of enjoying it. With Miles by her side every step of the way.
CHAPTER NINE
‘HEY girl. Ready to rock and roll?’
Andy stepped forwards into his arms and was enfolded in a fragrant cape of fresh citrus and ice-cool testosterone-infused aroma that was all Miles. He held her close for only a second, his lips pressed into her cheek, before he whispered, ‘You were right about the red. You look beautiful. These are for you.’
Andy lifted the posy of red roses and sweet freesias to her nose and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes at the intensity of the perfume.
‘Thank you. They are beautiful.’
If it was possible, Miles looked even more handsome than she had imagined. He was dressed in a beautiful hand-tailored black dinner suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and slim hips, and a pristine white dress shirt.
He was so tempting and delicious she could have eaten him with a spoon. And skipped the cream.
Instead she looked from the polished black shoes to perfectly tousled glossy hair and gave a quick sigh of appreciation.
And was thrilled to see his cheeks blush.
‘My, you do clean up nicely. Can I add a finishing touch?’
She plucked a perfect red rosebud from the posy and stepped forward so that the front of her black taffeta opera coat was pressed against his chest.
His hands slid behind her back and pulled her closer as she popped the rosebud into the buttonhole of his lapel, slipped the stem into the tiny loop and smoothed down the collar and the front of his jacket with the fingertips of both hands.
‘There. Much better.’ She smiled and tapped him twice on the chest before trying to step back.
Only Miles had other ideas and held her even tighter around her waist. He tilted his head to one side and ran his smooth cheek up from her jawline to her temple, then her brow, then back to her ear, making her quiver with more than the cold draught that was blowing in through the open door.
‘I agree. Much better,’ he murmured in a voice that was usually reserved for the bedroom and kissed her so lightly on the lips that she doubted that her lipstick even moved. ‘No need to rush.’
He sighed from deep inside and glanced over her shoulder at the staircase. His meaning only too plain. And suddenly the cool draught was not cool enough to calm the thumping heat of Andy’s blood.
She swallowed down her overwhelming sense of attraction and pushed it deep inside where she could deal with it later when she was back in her room. Alone.
Take the risk. That was what Miles kept telling her,
Take the risk, Andy. Take the risk and get out there and have the night of your life with this crazy and amazing man who will never know how much you care about him.
She inhaled slowly and turned back to face Miles with a grin on her face.
‘I told you that your old suit would be perfect,’ she said with a smile in her voice.
‘Unlike this shirt,’ Miles replied in a choked voice. His chin was high and he had two fingers between the stiff collar of his dress shirt and his throat, trying to create extra space by tugging at the neck. ‘Either the collar has shrunk or my neck has got thicker. Possibly both. This is what comes from spending way too much time in offices instead of the beach. Nightmare. I won’t last the night at this rate.’
Andy stepped around him and closed her front door, leant closer and whispered into his ear seven clear, crisp words.
‘Come upstairs and take your shirt off.’
Miles instantly perked up, his eyes sparkling and only inches away from her face so that she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘I like the way you are thinking but this may not be the best time. Jason will kill me if we don’t turn up in the next hour. And what are you doing?’
Andy waved her clutch bag at him, then grabbed his hand and headed for the stairs. ‘Like any sensible and organised modern girl, I have a full sewing kit up in my room. I can adjust that top button in a jiffy. Want to follow me?’
‘Just lead the way, gorgeous.’
Andy tried to ignore the dark rumblings of innuendo in his voice as Miles positively bounded up the staircase behind her and followed her into her room.
Then stood at the door, frozen and still, as she slipped off her coat.
‘Oh, you can come inside. You’re quite safe.’
‘Shame. But that’s not what I am looking at. This is … astonishing.’
‘What is?’ she asked with a smile and stepped back and turned to follow his gaze.
‘I had no idea that you could create something so magical in one room. You’ve seen Jason’s penthouse. Seriously, I had no clue there were so many shades of cream. But this? This is like a rainbow on a dull grey day.’
‘It is? I suppose I am so used to it.’
He reached out and grabbed her hand.
‘Stand here and try and see what you have created through my eyes.’
Andy took his fingers and Miles stepped back so that his front was pressing against the back of her dress. ‘Now. Talk me through each of those posters on the walls. Starting over there.’
He pointed his left arm towards her favourite prints of stained-glass floral scenes and she told him about the great cathedrals she had visited all over London and later Paris with her friend Saffie.
Then the prints of splendid fourteenth-century Royal manuscripts and Renaissance bibles. The tiny gold icon her father had bought in Greece, of course. And then her own work either side of the window, so that she could see the colours in natural daylight.
And the whole time she had been speaking, Miles had dropped his arms to around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her head, but not just listening for politeness. He really listened. Asked questions. Paid attention.
It was only when she moved forwards to show him her latest drawings that she realised that they had been locked together for over ten minutes!
‘Oh, no,’ she laughed. ‘Look at the time. I am so sorry; I could talk for England once I get started.’
Miles stepped up to the desk and took hold of both of her arms and smiled into her face. ‘And I could listen to you talk all evening. Look around you, Andy. You love this. And I should be the one apologising to you. When I saw you in the coffee shop last week, in your little grey suit, I wondered if there was any colour in your life.’
He shook his head, looked around her bedroom and inhaled slowly as he smiled warmly. ‘I was wrong. Your joy and your colour are all inside this room. And inside your heart.’
His fingertips pressed against the bare skin of her chest above the line of her dress and she could feel the pulse in his warm skin. ‘You have the heart of an artist, Andy Davies. And don’t you ever forget that.’
And just like that, her treacherous wounded heart gave a skip and a jump and started singing halleluia.
‘Do you really think that I am an artist?’ she whispered, swallowing down her fears and pain.
‘No. I don’t think so. I know so.’
His smile widened into a grin that filled her bedroom with more light and joy than any number of halogen lamps, her feet were an inch off the floor and for the first time in too many long years she felt … happy. And it was such a ridiculous and foolish and girly notion that she pressed her hand to her mouth to smother a giggle.
This, of course, only made him grin more.
‘Well, thank you, kind sir,’ she smirked, ‘but all you had to do was ask and I would have moved your button anyway. Now.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘We have a party to go to, so down to business. Sit there on my chair and don’t move an inch.’
She reached down and unclipped his bow tie so that it hung around his neck.
Miles watched her in silence as her fingers deftly released the top two buttons on his beautifully tailored silk dress shirt. Undressing him.
‘Now don
’t move or I might jab you,’ she warned, and bit down on her lower lip as she bent forwards with her scissors to release the fine stitches holding the button in place.
Her fingertips seemed to have minds of their own and used every opportunity to brush against the fine dark hairs on his chest as she worked. Seconds seemed to take minutes but at last the top button was off and she could sit back and create some air space between them.
His breathing had increased to match hers, and she knew that his gaze hadn’t once left her face, which made threading the needle a tad tricky, but she managed it on the third attempt.
By focusing completely on the tiny section of the smooth shirt collar where the button was moving to, Andy managed to hold back from looking into Miles’s face. His warm, sensuous chest rose and fell below her hands; his unique scent filled her head with it as she moved her fingers over the lustrous fabric, wishing it were his skin. Each tiny stitch was a triumph of will over temptation so hot and so urgent that if he had grabbed her and thrown her needle and thread out of the window she would have died and gone to heaven.
It was total relief to finally snip off the loop of white thread and create some breathing space between them.
‘There you are.’ She smiled and busied her hands tidying away the sewing kit. ‘I hope it is more comfortable.’ She shot one glance at Miles, but he was just sitting there, half turned towards her, watching her with a look that she had never seen before. His hands holding onto the seat, his legs tight together.
Surprise, amusement and what could be admiration or pleasure were all wrapped up inside one single smile.
And something more.
Desire. Hot and spicy and right there, only inches away.
‘Thank you,’ he breathed in his rich and deliciously smooth voice.
‘You are most welcome,’ she replied in a strangled voice.
He grinned.
She grinned.
And the world stopped spinning so that they could simply sit grinning at one another. London might be on the other side of the window glass, but at that moment there were only the two of them. United against the world and anything it might throw at them.
Which probably explained why she had no intention of resisting when Miles slid one arm around her waist, tipped her chin up and kissed her on the lips, so tender, so sweet that it took her breath away and brought tears to her eyes.
Her heart was beating so fast she might as well be surfing a huge wave.
‘Hey,’ she said, with a gentle closed-mouthed smile. ‘What was that for?’
Miles pressed two fingers to her warm, moist, soft lips.
‘For giving me an insight into a world I knew nothing about,’ he replied, and slipped his lips onto the hollow below her ear. ‘For trusting me enough to share your dreams.’ Andy arched her head back so that his kisses could track down her throat. ‘And for turning up to a coffee shop so that I wouldn’t be alone.’
He slid back so that he could see her face, and he already missed the way her skin felt, her perfume, the good feeling that came with holding her body in his arms. ‘And the fact that you are beautiful and talented and deserve to be pampered on a regular basis. Mustn’t forget that one.’
‘I am?’ she replied in a tiny soft voice, then shrugged and sniffed.
He looked down into Andy’s lovely face and saw astonishment and surprise.
And it broke his heart.
After what she had been through in her life, she still had the capacity to care about idiots like him.
The warmth and love in her gaze seemed to radiate into his body through every inch of his skin until they wrapped around his heart and held it tight. Cocooned and safe.
And he melted.
He hadn’t intended to. Or expected to. But it happened all the same.
He didn’t know what to do with her response. It was so honest and true and in that moment, in her elegant dress and simple make-up and hair, she looked stunningly beautiful.
And deeply, deeply, desirable.
A deep-seated yearning of naked want started to burn like a raw hot flicker of a flame inside his gut, warming his body in places that he had kept to himself since the accident.
It had been building for days. And working with her in the office had only served to get the coals red-hot and the tinder dry. Just waiting for the spark to ignite them.
Well, here it came.
And instantly he knew. This was a flame that could burn away all of his defences if he let it, leaving him open to all of the pain of rejection.
He should walk away and leave her in this cosy house, with her single bed and her table covered with pens and inks and beautiful designs. Leave her to her safe little world, and well away from the crazy chaos that was his.
Anything else would be too unfair on Andy. He had nothing to offer her but tonight. Long-term relationships were for men who knew who they were and where they wanted to go with their life. Not for men like him.
He rose from the chair, and then clenched his hands into the tiny slim pockets of his dinner-suit trousers, ruining the line and not caring.
‘We should be leaving,’ he said, only his voice sounded low and way too unconvincing.
She must have thought so, too, because she took a last step and closed the distance between them and pressed the palms of both of her hands flat against the front of his white dinner shirt. He could feel the warmth of her fingertips through the fine fabric as she spread her fingers out in wide arcs and the light perfume enclosed them.
‘Don’t say any more. I understand. I understand you completely.’
Every muscle in his body tensed as she moved closer and pressed her body against his, one hand reaching in to the small of his back and the other still pressed gently against his shirt. He tried to shift but she shifted with him, her body fitting perfectly against his, her cheek resting on his lapel as though they were dancing to music that only she could hear.
So he did the only thing he could.
He took her left hand from his chest in his right, lifted it high into the air and moved his left arm around her waist and rested it lightly on her hip.
‘Did you notice that there will be a dance band at the after-show party? I was hoping you might help me practise a few moves. But with this knee? Don’t expect any dips. But could I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Davies?’ he asked in a calm voice.
She stared at him in silence for a second, then slid her right arm from around his waist, flashed him a smile and dived into her clutch bag on the desk next to them and pulled out what looked to Miles like a London bus timetable.
‘You are in luck, Mr Gibson. According to my dance card I am free for the next waltz. So yes,’ she said, looking into his eyes and holding his gaze. ‘You can have the pleasure of this dance. Although I should warn you. The only dancing I do these days is in front of my radio.’
‘Forget the waltz.’ He smiled and clasped her tighter to his body. ‘Did I mention that my mother is Spanish? Dancing is the national sport. I think a box rhumba might work well.’
‘I think you are going to have to teach me that one,’ she whispered, but her gaze didn’t leave his face, her intense focus making his skin and neck burn.
Miles felt her fingers tighten around his arm over his biceps and his heart rate quickened. His hands moved up to her bare upper arms, her smooth soft skin a delight under his touch.
‘Back right, side left, forward left, side right. Like a box.’
His left foot slid backwards, taking her with him, back the sideways, their bodies locked together in a rhythm as old as time.
‘Listen to the beat,’ he coaxed. ‘Slow, quick, quick, slow. Hold that slow step. Lean into it just a bit longer. Do you hear it? Do you hear the beat?’
‘I think I do,’ Andy replied. But her feet stayed where they were as her hands slid up from his arms onto his neck and stayed there.
She lifted her head and her hair brushed his chin as she pressed tentative kisses onto his
collarbone and neck. Her mouth was soft and moist and totally, totally captivating.
With each kiss she stepped closer until her hips beneath her dress were pressed against his and the pressure made him groan.
‘Andy,’ he muttered, reaching for her shoulders to draw her away. But somehow he was sliding his hands up into her hair instead, holding her head and tilting her face towards him. Then he was kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, her taste surrounding him.
He stroked her tongue with his and traced her lower lip before sucking on it gently. She made a small sound and angled her head to give him more access.
She tasted so sweet, so amazing. So giving.
She gazed at him with eyes filled with concern and regret and sadness as if she was expecting some cutting comment about what a fool she was to invite him to her bedroom—to want to be with him, and only him.
And that look hit him hard.
He did not just want Andy to be his stand-in date for tonight. He wanted to see her again, be with her again. He wanted to know what she looked like when she had just made love. He wanted to find out what gave her pleasure in bed—then make sure that he delivered precisely what the lady ordered.
He went for women who were straightforward. Proud of their gym-and-sports-honed bodies and up front about what they wanted from a relationship. A very short-term relationship.
Which suited him just fine.
Andy was proving him wrong about so many things.
She was as proud and independent as he was. And just as unforgiving with anyone who dared to offer her charity or their pity.
By some fluke, some strange quirk of fate, he had met a woman who truly did understand him more than Lori had ever done. And that was beyond a miracle.
Could he take a chance and show her how special she was? And put his heart on the line at the same time?
He slid a hand down her back to cup her backside, holding her against him as he flexed his hips forward, and one hand still in her hair. She shuddered as he slid his hand in slow circles up from her back to her waist, running his hands up and down her skin, which was like warm silk, so smooth and perfect. He ducked his head and kissed her again, his hands teasing all the while until he was almost holding her upright.
